


Settle Down

by wearing_tearing, whatthehale



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Architect Derek, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Breastfeeding, Butt Plugs, Comeplay, Derek Takes Care Of Stiles, Descriptions of Labor, Explicit Sexual Content, Felching, Knotting, Lactation Kink, Love Confessions, M/M, Male Lactation, Mates, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Moving In Together, Mpreg, Nipple Play, Omega Stiles Stilinski, POV Alternating, Pregnant Sex, Pregnant Stiles, Protective Derek, Rich Derek, Scent Marking, Self-Lubrication, Surrogacy, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Wolf Derek, Writer Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-24 03:53:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 153,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1590707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearing_tearing/pseuds/wearing_tearing, https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthehale/pseuds/whatthehale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a struggling author barely making ends meet.</p><p>Derek is a successful architect whose biological clock is ticking.</p><p>Enter a surrogacy agency, two packs, and a particularly sticky and toe curling heat week and you get a match made in heaven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One and One and One is Three.

**Author's Note:**

> We read a summary for an ABO Surrogacy AU ([Your Baby and Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1192839/chapters/2434026) by tearsandholdme) and decided we liked the premise, but wanted to go a different way. So, voila. Welcome to omega human Stiles and alpha werewolf Derek and their baby-making adventures. Prepare for sex and fluff and sex and a teeny bit of angst and babies, and oh yeah, _sex_.
> 
> Background pairings: Lydia/Jackson, Erica/Boyd, Scott/Kira
> 
>  
> 
> For future reference, since there are two of us here, wearing_tearing will end her notes with J and whatthehale with P. Hope you guys have fun reading :D We def had a BLAST writing. ;) 
> 
> Beta'd by [breeisonfire](http://archiveofourown.org/users/breeisonfire/pseuds/breeisonfire) and [laynacakes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/laynacakes/pseuds/laynacakes).
> 
> xoxo,  
> J & P
> 
> PS. Title based on [Settle Down by The 1975](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4KhwafeppBc&feature=kp) and chapter title comes from [Come Together by The Beatles](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cAmn4eMusZk).
> 
> **We do not give permission for any of our works to be added to or shared on other websites such as Goodreads.**

"I could always sell my body," Stiles says out of the blue, sticking his tongue out and making faces at Dawn.

They’re all at Lydia and Jackson’s for their bi-monthly Friday dinner and Stiles, as usual, is trying to figure out what he’s going to do when his rent money runs out. It’s a day that’s rapidly approaching. And something he's getting _way_ too used to doing lately.

And on top of _that_ , Christmas is about a month and a half away and he still has to buy gifts for everyone.

Scott, bless him, tilts his head to the side like he’s actually considering it, "You'd be a good hooker."

Stiles has to smile at that.

Because this is Scott, the best bro to end all bros. He never blows off even the most ridiculous things Stiles says.

He still has to correct him, though.

"Please," Stiles huffs, picking Dawn up when she starts to fuss. "I'd be a _great_ hooker."

Jackson swoops in before Stiles can bring Dawn all the way to his chest.

“Stop talking about sex work in front of my daughter, Stilinski. She will _never_ be old enough this conversation. _I’m_ not old enough for this conversation.”

He takes Dawn with him then, away from Stiles’s _gimme_ hands and goes back to sit next to Lydia.

“Stiles is a bad influence,” Jackson grumbles, arm around Dawn’s head, covering her ears, like she even understood what Stiles had been saying.

“Like Stiles talking about sex workers would ever influence our baby girl.” Lydia rolls her eyes, flipping her hair over her shoulder, eyes softening as she looks at her husband and daughter. “She’s going to be a math genius like me, aren’t you Dawn?”

Dawn gurgles.

Lydia smiles.

Jackson looks at the two of them _adoringly_ , and actually looks somewhat appeased.

And proud too, like his daughter’s future achievements already bring him joy.

And Stiles sighs, thinking this doesn't really help him come up with a way to make rent.

Or pay his bills.

Or eat.

One would have thought that publishing his first book (about high school kids solving a murder mystery of a vicious cougar-like animal maiming and eviscerating hikers in a California redwood forest) straight out of college would have led to more deals, but apparently having his second and third books be about gutsy omegas who take no shit from anyone, _especially_ not alphas, is not really something people are very interested in. Unfortunately, they’d rather spend their time reading about meek omegas being swept off their feet by strong and powerful alphas who take care of them, provide for them, dominate them.

And Stiles?

Stiles has been fighting against that particular stereotype since he was thirteen.Especially since _before_ presenting as an omega (though he likes to refer to it as _experiencing the week of hell for the first time_ ), no one would have thought he’d have anything other than a beta or maybe even an alpha orientation.

He’s always had problems with authority (even though his dad was pretty much the biggest authority around while growing up), and was always quick to speak his mind and bend rules in his favor, more often than not sticking his nose in other people’s (and sometimes even police) business.

So really, no one was more surprised than _he_ , was when it cam time to figure out what his orientation would be (like it happens to everyone around their thirteenth birthday), and instead of going into rut like alphas did (Lydia and Kira) or have **nothing** happen like betas (Scott and Jackson), he went into _heat_.

For _a whole week_.

To be honest, he still doesn’t remember much about that first time, but the feeling of being too big for his own skin and not being able to find relief no matter what he did was something that was going to stick with him forever.

Because it’s either suffering through that or finding an alpha to help him out.

Thank god he now has suppressants.He no longer has to experience the mindless _helplessness_ that comes with being an omega in heat. Nor does he have to go around and find a random alpha to help him out three times a year when his heat surges.

It’s something Stiles is not very keen on doing, or something he has ever done, considering most alphas he knows (aside from Lydia, Kira, and his dad) are complete _dicks_.

He doesn’t really feel right with sticking Scott into that category though, not even after his best friend was bitten and they found out werewolves were real. It was kind of fun having to figure out how werewolves worked within their own Alpha, Beta, Omega ranks that had nothing to do with their sexual orientations. Like how Scott started out as Beta werewolf with a beta orientation but then ascended into his True Alpha powers, becoming an Alpha werewolf, andstill maintained his beta sexual orientation.

One had nothing to do with the other. Werewolf ranks could change; your orientation was for life.

Stiles doesn’t like to think about how Lydia would have turned out if her bite had taken instead of triggering her Banshee powers. She’s of the alpha orientation, and Stiles has no doubts she would have ended up ascending to the status of Alpha werewolf as well. He doesn’t even to imagine what it would be like to deal with someone like that.

Someone with _double_ the Alpha personality.

Stiles turns back to the still cooing Whittemore family then, and gets an idea.

“Hey, Lydia, why did you choose surrogacy for Dawn again? It’s not like you don’t have the, uh, right parts,” he snorts, looking at her curiously. "You know, even if it could take a while for you to get pregnant."

And even though alphas have low fertility rates when it comes to _them_ getting pregnant, it'd still be possible for it to happen if they tried hard enough. So this is something Stiles never really understood.

Why she and Jackson would turn to a surrogacy agent and the help of an omega to have a child instead of doing things the old fashioned way.

Not that Stiles wants to think about them having sex, but still.

It’s something he’s always been curious about, and it’s not until now, when he’s trying to come up with ways to support himself, that he asks.

Lydia rolls her eyes at him again, “I didn’t want anything coming in between me and my PhD. I didn’t need the mood swings or aches and pains that come with a pregnancy. I _did_ want a baby though, and so did Jackson, and it’s not like money was an issue.”

He wonders what it’s like for money not to be an issue.

That must be nice. He’s _always_ had that issue.

Hence why he’s asking about this.

He needs to come up with a way to earn money.

And seeing Lydia and Jackson with baby Dawn and knowing how they came to have her is giving him a few ideas.

Because it’s not like getting an omega pregnant is really an issue either.

Since, you know, omegas are practically born for pregnancy. Heats basically _ensure_ pregnancy if you go through them with a fertile alpha, often resulting in multiple births. According to all the literature, an omega who is knotted five or more times during his heat week has a 98.3% chance at getting pregnant. And from the couple heats Stiles experienced before he was allowed to start suppressants, he knows that five knots is on the lower end of what omegas need just during the two peak days, not even including the other five days of heat week.

He could get pregnant e _asily._

So it’s no wonder surrogacy agencies play on that.

And pay _a lot_ of money to any omega who’d like to become a surrogate.

Especially considering the fertility issues alpha couples often have when trying to start a family.

Stiles is actually kind of impressed with himself and wonders why he didn’t think of this option earlier.

Because he’s been friends with Lydia since they were in high school, and he’s been by her side since the moment she and Jackson got the confirmation that their surrogate, an omega named Danny who had dimples when he smiled, was pregnant.

“I know that face,” Scott says suddenly, breaking Stiles out of his thoughts. “That’s not a good face.”

“What?” Stiles blinks at him, trying his best to look innocent.

“That’s your _I have an idea_ face,” Scott explains, lips thin. “Nothing good ever comes out of it.”

“Excuse me, but I have the _best_ ideas,” Stiles sniffs, all mock offense.

“You’re the one who convinced Scott and me to go for a walk in the woods in the middle of the night where we got bitten by that feral Alpha,” Lydia points out, raising an eyebrow at him.

“And now Scott has _superhuman_ powers and you hear voices! How cool is that!”

Both Lydia and Scott level him with a _thoroughly_ unimpressed look.

“We almost _died_ , Stiles,” Scott points out then.

Well, when he says it like that.

“There’s no _proof_ that our lives were in danger at any point,” Stiles says, sullenly, maintaining his stance.

“Lydia was unconscious in the hospital for _two weeks_.”

Well.

Yes, that’s true.

“Okay, fine. That was admittedly not my _best_ idea.”

“That might be the understatement of year, Stilinski,” Jackson chimes in.

“We’re still alive, though. That’s what counts,” Stiles says, trying to save face. And then promptly changes the subject. “But this one. This one is _foolproof_.”

“Oh I’d _love_ to hear what you’re thinking right now,” Lydia says drily, arching her eyebrow and looking at him intently.

Scott has a resigned but still somewhat supportive look on his face because _Scott is the best_ and always is willing to give Stiles and his ideas a second chance.Or third. Or sometimes fourth, when the other three fail.

Seriously, _Scott is the absolute best_.

Jackson looks bored and promptly goes back to playing with his daughter.

“I can be a surrogate!”

Lydia’s raised eyebrow drops and she looks at him critically while Scott’s mouth drops open. Jackson continues to ignore him.

“Think about it. I’m an omega, I’d be really good at making babies and I don’t want any right now so it would be no skin off my back to give one up.”

“That’s…,” Lydia purses her lips and speaks slowly, like she’s still processing all the ways this could go wrong, “Not your _worst_ idea, Stiles. It still has the potential to blow up in your face, like all of your other ideas, but it’s not the worst one.”

“But Stiles, it would be a little human. _Inside you_ ," Scott says, face scrunched up in concern. "It would mean morning sickness, and cramps and bloating and being uncomfortablefor _nine months_. You can’t even be uncomfortable for five minutes most of the time.”

Stiles shifts in his seat then, “If this is about the sock thing…”

“It takes you _thirty minutes_ to put socks on in the morning! Thirty minutes!” Scott cries.

“That’s not fair, Scott. Socks are _uncomfortable_. They have that stupid seam line right above your toes and sometimes it _digs in_ and it’s just the worst thing in the world, Scotty.”

“Worse than _labor,_ Stiles?” Scott counters.

Stiles hates to admit it, but Scott kind of has a point.

That still doesn’t mean he’s changing his mind about this, because it _is_ a good idea.

Plus no one ever gave him thousands of dollars to put socks on. He can endure a being uncomfortable if it comes with a payday.

He can also endure being uncomfortable if it means not being miserable during his heat week, and then not having to go through the other two heats because he’ll be _pregnant_.

See? It’s a win-win situation for all involved.

He’ll be getting a good sum of money, maybe a place to live for awhile if he ends up knocked up, and whoever he’s doing this with will end up with the kid they’ve always wanted.

There’s no way Stiles will deny anyone the chance of _having a child_.

“Look, Stiles, if you’re serious about this why don’t you call Danny? You can talk to him about what he went through when he was pregnant with Dawn, and maybe it’ll push you one way or another. I can give you his number,” Lydia offers, already rummaging through her bag for her phone.

“Thanks, Lyds,” Stiles says, because he knows he’s gonna have to do his research if he decides to go through with this, and there’s no one better to get information from than Danny. "I'll get right on that."

Kira walks in, then, flustered and hair flying everywhere. Scott, the perfect gentleman he is, jumps up immediately to give her a kiss and help her out of her million coats and scarves.

It starts getting pretty chilly in New York City around the week before Thanksgiving. If they’re lucky, they might even get some light snow before Christmas.

“Sorry I’m late!” Kira says. “A Nogitsune was trying to sneak some porn magazines into the children’s section. Create havoc and chaos for the little ones, you know what it's like. SoI had to help Mom deal with him. What did I miss?”

Stiles winces.

Kira, just like her mom, is Kitsune. They’re both alphas and _badass_ as fuck, and Stiles pities whoever tries to mess with them and with the bookshop they own.

Said bookshop being Stiles’ current place of employment (in the hopes of finding some inspiration for his own books amidst all the great ones they sell), and connected to it is the coffee shop Kira used to work at when she and Scott met.

He really hopes that this Nogitsune business doesn’t mean more work for him when he goes in later.

“Stiles is going to have a baby. That’s it, really,” Scott says succinctly,shrugging,and Stiles makes a face at him. For all intents and purposes, they’re still the seven year olds they were when they met.

Kira blinks a couple times, and looks around. No one has any sort of expression that would mean that Scott is joking. Lydia and Jackson are barely even paying attention, too mesmerized by Dawn’s newest feat _—_ blowing spit bubbles.

“I think I may need to sit down for this,” Kira says slowly, still looking like she’s waiting for one of them to scream ‘ _gotcha’!_

Stiles grins at her, and winks.

“Does the Sheriff know about this?” she asks them, as she sinks into the seat next to Scott’s.

Stiles freezes.

And his grin disappears.

Because _oh shit_.

His _dad_.

* * *

 

Derek’s sitting at his coffee shop of choice, and he doesn’t know what it is, but lately, the place seems to be flooded with kids.

Moms meeting up for a midday coffee with toddlers in strollers, chatting about this and that as their munchkins run around the open floor plan.

There are families on the weekends more often than not, _groups_ of them, moms discussing school districts and extracurricular activities and dads talking about sports and little league as their kids chatter and color and just make a lot of noise.

One day, he sees what looks like a single dad (there’s no ring, he notices) come in with an adorable cherubic three year old, all huge blue eyes and rosy cheeks, and Derek doesn’t really know what to do with the little tug in his heart at the sight of them.

He’s starting to think this is some kind of a joke.

Because his other option is having the universe trying to tell him something.

That something being that maybe _he_ should be the one with rugrat perched on his hip and milk stains on his shirts and dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep because his kid was crying all night.

And his heart tugs at the thought of _that_.

His _kid_.

Another Hale.

 _Family_.

And _pack_ , by _blood_ in addition to everything else. Something more than just pack through a bond or a bite, something that would be pack because of _kin_.

Something he hasn’t had since-

Something he hasn’t had in a really long time.

 _Too_ long.

He has a pack though. It took awhile to get his shit together, and then and even _longer_ for him to build ties within his pack but they’re in a good place now.

The kind of place where, if he were to bring a kid into the mix, he or she would be loved and cared for and cherished by everyone.

Not to mention, he’s already thirty. If he wants the Hale pack to continue to have a Hale as the Alpha of the pack, he needs to go _make_ that Hale. As current Alpha, and only living member of the Hale family, his first born, boy or girl, will inherit the role of Alpha when he decides to pass along the responsibility.

It would have been Laura’s title, if things had gone as his mother planned. But then, she didn’t know she would have to plan for the fire and Laura didn’t know she would have to plan for Peter.

So now that falls to him, the role of the leader. And _he_ has to be the one to ensure the Hale pack survives for generations to come.

Not that he ever really gave that much thought.

At least not until all these parents decided to swarm the _Little Fox Cafe_ with their adorable spawn.

And to think the reason why he moved to New York was to get as far away as he could from things that reminded him of his family, but now here he is, doing exactly that. Thinking about them and missing them and considering having his own child so he can ensure the Hale name carries on.

Which, on the one hand, feels flippant and like he’s trying to replace his family.

But on the other, he’s so _sure_ that this is what they would want for him. He’s grieved for fifteen years, and it’s about time to move on.

Or at least that’s what Erica says to him that night during ‘pack bonding time’, as she likes to call it.

Nevermind that he never said anything about this to her. It only took one look from her to know everything that was on his mind.

Sometimes he wonders if he made a mistake turning her.

She looks conspiratorily at Boyd and Isaac who look a little horrified by her bluntness, but in true Erica fashion, she remains unphased. “You need to stop punishing yourself, Derek. You mourned your family, you mourned Laura, you even mourned _Peter_ even though the fucker didn’t deserve it. It’s time for you to move on. You deserve it. You deserve to have everything you want for yourself. Even if that’s a baby. Maybe even _especially_ if it’s a baby.”

Isaac chimes in then, confusion evident in his tone, “Why are we talking about Derek having a baby?”

Erica makes a face at him, gesturing at Derek before saying, “He smells like he’s been around kids the entire afternoon. _And_ he has that look on his face that means he’s having feelings but doesn’t really know how to deal with them. That usually happens when he wants something but doesn’t think he deserves it.”

“He had that same look on his face when Erica asked if she could have the last spring roll,” Boyd pipes up.

Derek’s ears turn red as his betas make fun of him, but he knows it’s all in good fun and that they really just want what’s best for him. They’ve come so _far_ since they first met and started being a pack, that he doesn’t really need to think twice about the fact that whatever he chooses to do, they’re going to support him one hundred percent.

Or at least, Erica is going to support him one hundred percent and will strong arm the other two into doing the same.

It’s for actions like this that make Derek rethink Erica’s telling the truth when she says she’s a Beta wolf with a beta orientation.

“How would you even go about it, Derek? If you want this kid to be yours biologically, you can’t exactly adopt. Are you seeing someone?” Isaac asks then, trailing off as he sees Derek’s reaction.

Derek recoils, because the thought of dating someone, of letting someone get close and of opening himself up to that kind of thing, still sends him into panic mode. That is _not_ what he wants. Not at all. Not after what happened. Not after what she- Just _no_.

“Of course not, Isaac. We’d be able to smell it if he was.” Erica says matter of factly.

“Then please tell me you don’t mean for me to-,” Isaac starts, eyes going wide and showing a hint of fear.

“ _No_ ,” Derek says, even more horrified than before. “I’d never- _No_. I wouldn’t- No. _No._ ”

Derek knows it’s not as uncommon as it should be to have the Alpha werewolf in a pack use any omega pack members as breeders, despite their ranks in the pack, but Derek would never do that to anyone, least of all Isaac who’s his Beta and the only omega in his pack.

He thinks it’s a gross abuse of his authority as Alpha, when he should be protecting and taking care of all his pack members instead of using and taking advantage of them for his own means. It makes his stomach roll to even think about it, to know that there are Alpha werewolves out there who are also alphas sexually and have no problem in taking advantage of their omegas because as far as they’re concerned, bearing children is their only purpose.

Not that Alpha werewolves are the only ones who think that, with some humans and other supernatural creatures that also have alpha, or sometimes even beta, as their orientation following that despicable line of thought.

That makes Derek want to find them and tear them apart, knowing this is not an unnatural fear Isaac has.Especially when he thinks about how distraught and defeated Isaac used to look and how demure and submissive he’d acted when Derek first met him. If Mr. Lahey hadn’t already been dead, Derek really isn’t sure anyone would have been able to stop him from destroying that man.

That also makes Derek think about his dad, who was an omega and human, and Derek wonders if he ever had to go through something like that before he met Talia, Derek’s mom. He hopes he didn’t.

“You could always try surrogacy,” Boyd says then, bringing Derek out of his head. “I know a woman who is a Banshee and an alpha who just had a baby through a surrogate omega. She wanted a kid who was genetically hers and her werewolf husband’s and found an agency that specializes in supernatural creature surrogacy and adoptions.”

Derek’s not too sure how he feels about that, but he wouldn’t mind getting some more information straight from the source. Something’s still nagging at him, though.

“Wouldn’t I need to find someone to provide the second set of chromosomes though?”

“I don’t know,” Boyd shrugs. “But I can always ask for the name and address of the agency so you can check them out yourself."

Derek nods at Boyd then.He’s by far the most helpful and level headed of his betas. He’s also the one Derek should go to every time he has a problem. Boyd _always_ has an answer. And unlike Erica’s solutions, Boyd’s ideas are actually rational. And unlikely to get him into trouble. Or to have to _bail_ someone out of trouble.

“Thanks, Boyd. I’d really like that.”

And he would.

Because the tug at his heart he’s been feeling since that morning when he found himself once again surrounded by kids?

It’s of the good kind.

* * *

 

Stiles talks to Danny at _length_ when the meet up for coffee, and the more they discuss, the more he thinks that surrogacy will work for him. You know, at least until he gets back on track and gets a story published that actually makes him money instead of leaving him high and dry and wondering if he’ll have enough money to buy food that week.

First, Danny talks about the agency he used, amiably explaining in detail all their policies, and Stiles is very pleased. The agency seems to consider omegas as their highest priority, and any company that does that will always be a plus for Stiles. Because there’s no way he’ll get into something that’ll leave him worse for wear after everything’s said and done.

Danny explains how the company ensured that he was comfortable, that he never felt like he was forced to go one way or another when choosing an alpha single parent or a beta single parent ora couple, and that his needs and wants were what kept everything moving forward. Danny was certain that had he expressed even a hint of doubt, the agency would have immediately shut everything down. Before actual fertilization, an omega had the option of backing out at any time, no harm, no foul. Another plus for Stiles.

Stiles is reminded that the agency Danny usedspecializesprimarily supernatural births, something he hadn’t really thought through until his conversation with Danny.

It kind of makes sense, though, considering how hard it must be for couples having difficulties with conceiving having to hide their supernatural nature. Stiles knows werewolf children don’t turn until they’re five years old, Banshees only come into their powers if they’re triggered by something traumatic (like Lydia being bitten against her will by a werewolf), and Kitsunes don’t hint at anything until they’re in their late teens, but a few supernatural creatures are obviously supernatural since birth, so it makes sense them not wanting to take any risks and end up revealing themselves to humans and possibly attracting the attention of hunters.

He ends up on board with the idea eventually, figuring that he already knows enough about most of the more common supernatural creatures to be able to ascertain whether or not he wants to make a baby for one.Danny mentions that he can even check off the ones he’s comfortable with on his surrogacy application,and that the agency would never pair him with anyone he feels uncomfortable around. Yet _another_ plus. He wouldn’t want to have to be around someone he doesn’t like or makes him uncomfortable for nine months until he went into labor.

Werewolves are perfectly fine in his opinion; and, though they can be a little growly and possessive (see: Jackson), they really do make the _best_ parents. Stiles just knows that if he were to be a surrogate for a werewolf parent or _parents_ , that they would love any child he makes to _death_. No one would ever love the baby more. And that’s more than he can say for some human parents he knows _—_ his dad is a cop and because of that, Stiles has seen some truly horrific things. He’s also experienced Scott’s dad leaving when Scott was a kid, and never looking back.

Danny, being the gem that he is, also has blank copies of the original forms he’d had to fill out as well as all the various information packets the agency provides to omegas, and offers them to Stiles to go through before he even decides to go visit the agency. It’s a way for him to know what they’re interested in beforehand, and Stiles is all for that. _Be prepared_ , his father has always said.

“Dude, this is amazing,” Stiles says, eyes scanning over the first brochure he gets his hands on.

Danny smiles, dimples showing, and shrugs one shoulder. “Lydia’s always talking about how you’re always head deep in research and you’re the one who always figures things out, so I thought you’d want as much information from me as you could get. So I came prepared.”

Stiles blinks at him, and then grins. “I can totally see why Lydia and Jackson chose you.”

“You mean it wasn’t for my good looks?” Danny gasps, faux surprised, causing Stiles to laugh.

With the paperwork Danny gave him, he learns that surrogates can choose between IVF or heat sex, depending on what they feel more comfortable with. In-vitro fertilization (IVF) is an option for either couples who are unable to conceive, and therefore _need_ a surrogate, or for single parents who have pre-chosen the second set of chromosome that will be used to conceive their child.

He supposes that heat sex is an option mainly because of it’s unparalleled success rate. An omega in heat has 65% more chance of getting pregnant when having sex with a beta, and one that is knotted by an alpha during heat week is pretty much guaranteed to get pregnant. It doesn’t matter if they’re having sex with someone supernatural or not.

So you can imagine how fucking surprised Scott was when he had an ‘incident’ the first time he tried to get off after he became a true Alpha.

Turns out that werwolf Alphas _always_ have knots and humans with Alpha orientation have knots _only_ in response to an omega in heat. And since Scott is of beta orientation, he’d never had to deal with the possibility, nor had he ever dreamed he _would_ have to deal with it.

Stiles keeps reading, finding out that single parents who are looking for their surrogate to provide the additional chromosomes can choose the heat sex option. It’s a little shady, having sex with a random person like that, but Danny assures Stiles that he is in no way obligated to have sex with an interested alpha or beta. It’s always going to end up being _his_ choice whether or not he sleeps with his future baby daddy.And again, heat sex is an option mainly because of it’s unparalleled success rate.

Stiles still likes enough of what he sees that the choice to go to the agency to check out the place and find out more about this stuff comes easy, bidding Danny goodbye and thanking him profusely for everything.

“You won’t be thanking me if you decide to go through with this,” Danny shakes his head at him, still smiling. “Trust me, Stiles. Labor pains are _hell_.”

Stiles wrinkles his nose at that, figuring it’s best for him to ignore that particular piece of info at least until he gets matched up with someone. That is, if he even likes the agency and its workers and decides to to sign himself up and become a surrogate.

Since he has some time until his shift starts at _Clever Fox Books_ , he doesn’t see why he shouldn’t go about doing that _right now_. He stops to send a quick text to Lydia and Scott to let them know where he is, and then checks one of the forms Danny gave him to make sure he has the right address before he heads out.

The agency is called Tree of Life Surrogacy and despite being in the middle of the concrete jungle that is New York City, the building seems to look like one giant tree. It’s got vines running up and down the sides, curling around pillars and stopping just around the door, even during winter time. There’s a sort of electricity thrumming in and around it, and Stiles likes the way it makes him feel. It’s a heady, powerful, _capable_ sort of feeling, none of which has described him of late.

He likes it a _lot_.

He walks straight up to the reception desk where a serene looking man is answering the phone and subsequently putting everyone who calls on hold. Stiles doesn’t see how they’d get anything done that way, but he ignores it.

The man _does_ look up at Stiles when he walks up though, a smile plastered on his face.

“Welcome to Tree of Life Surrogacy sir, my name is Greenberg, how can I help you?”

“Hey, there, I was considering being a surrogate?” Stiles says, cringing internally at how awkward he sounds. “And I was just hoping to talk to someone, get some more information and just kinda take it from there?”

Greenberg abruptly turns away from Stiles then, and pushes a button on the phone next to him. He doesn’t say anything or actually call anyone but gestures to Stiles to take a seat in their waiting room.

“It’ll be just a moment.”

Stiles just blinks at him, but figures that since this _is_ a supernatural surrogacy agency, someone will come for him in a few minutes. So he takes a seat, sinking into the soft cushion of one of the waiting room sofas, and, well, _waits_. And tries not to think much about what he’s doing there, aside from the fact that if everything works out, it’ll mean he finally found a way to pay his bills that doesn’t involve moving from NYC back to Beacon Hills and living with his dad until he can save enough money to get back on his feet again.

A professional looking woman with long, sleek black hair, impeccable fashion sense and the latest Louboutins (God, he’s been spending too much time with Lydia) sticks her head through the door next to the reception window.

“Sir?” It’s directed at him, so he jumps up, only flailing a _little_ and looks around to make sure it is in fact _him_ that she’s talking to.

“Me?” Stiles asks, pointing at himself until she nods. “Hi. I’m Stiles.”

She smiles at him and motions to him to follow her. “My name is Marin, and I’m one of the surrogacy agents here at TOL. Everyone here is a trained Marriage and Family Therapist though we do have specialities beyond that. I, for example, work with the omega surrogates.”

Everything about her exudes understated power and Stiles really likes that.She also gives of an air of intelligence and Stiles feels like she would definitely advocate for him if there were any sort of complications further down the line. They enter an office with the nameplate ‘Morrell’ on the door and Stiles takes a seat when she gestures at him.

She offers him tea or coffee, but Stiles is jittery enough as it is and denies both.

“So I take it that you’re interested in being an omega surrogate?” she asks, a trace of a smile on her lips when Stiles nods and swallows nervously. “Why don’t you tell me a little about how you came to that decision and how you learned about our company?”

“Well I know a couple people who have used this company in the recent past to have a baby via a surrogate, and I even talked to the surrogate Danny?” Stiles blabs, and then his eyes widen. “Unless, shit, am I not supposed to name names?”

Morrell smiles at him, “I would never reveal the name of one of our surrogates for confidentiality issues, but if there is someone you know that has helped you, I’m sure you’re allowed to talk about them.”

“Right, well Danny was a surrogate here, and I really like everything he said about how you guys work, and how you put Omegas first and make them feel at ease during the whole process because I think that’s really important. That’s why I chose you guys,” Stiles says, and then adds. “Well, that and because I’m not exactly new to the supernatural world.”

She nods, “Okay. So why do you want to be a surrogate?”

Stiles laughs nervously. He’s not sure how they’re going to take ‘I’m broke and I need money’ but he sure as hell isn’t going to lie to them.

“I, uh, am an author? And I’ve hit a bit of a rough patch lately. I’m looking at not being able to pay rent in another one or two months.”

Morrell doesn’t look at him like she’s judging him, which he’s grateful for. She just considers him for a moment and says, “That’s definitely been a reason for surrogates we’ve used in the past.”

Stiles hears the unsaid ‘but that’s not the only reason’ and is quick to reassure her that he’s not _only_ doing it for the money. “I figure that some couples might have a hard time finding a good agency or surrogates willing and open to carry a child for them, so I thought I could help. I go through three heats a year, all of which would presumably end in a pregnancy if I were to spend them with an alpha, so why not take advantage of that? Giving someone the gift of a kid is pretty damn awesome in my opinion.”

“I agree. And that’s the goal here at TLO Surrogacy, Stiles. To have a safe and healthy pregnancy that ends in a family. If you truly think that having a kid and then handing them off to the parents is something you can do, then we should start setting up an Omega Surrogate Profile for you.”

Stiles eyes widen for a second at that, because woah, he is _so not ready to have a kid._

“I am _so_ not ready to have a kid. I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

She smiles at him, finally a real one, eyes all bright and pleased, “Well, let’s get started then!”

The application is _long_ and it’s almost like Stiles is applying to colleges all over again. It asks for everything from his likes and dislikes to his favorite foods, to hobbies and funnily enough, favorite animals. He has to mention that he has a small criminal record _—_ his dad caught him trespassing and to teach him a lesson, had actually written him up. He answers questions about his childhood, about his parents, and even things such as what electives he took in high school and college.

Once that’s all finished, he gets to the part about actual fertilization. Most of it he already knew from his talk with Danny, so it doesn’t take him long to write some of it down. Marin basically reiterates what he said, and Stiles doesn’t have any problems with any of it.

Since Stiles is all about getting off, he marks down both the option for IVF and the one for heat sex. He figures that the couples interested in him can then choose which way works best for them. If it’s someone who’s single, he’ll leave it up to them whether or not he/she wants to knot him or artificially impregnate him. Since Marin mentions that no matter what he chooses, he can always opt out of the heat sex option, he figures he’s safe no matter what.Especially if they match him up with someone he likes but isn’t attracted to or doesn’t feel comfortable with.

Next, the application asks if he would be willing to go live with the future parents of the child he’s gestating. He marks yes, thinking ‘hell yes!’ in his head. That would actually be the most ideal situation for him, considering he wouldn’t have to worry about paying rent for an entire nine months while he’s a surrogate. He hopes that any alphas or betas that chose him will be overprotective enough to want him to stay with them while he’s pregnant.

Lastly, the form asks if he prefers a _location_ for the heat sex. It asks if he would rather it be at his place of residence, his alpha’s or beta’s, or at one of the designated heat rooms the agency provides.

He’s not a huge fan of some rich, snobby, well-to-do alpha or beta coming into his home (which will probably be sub-par to their standards) so he marks both the ‘alpha/beta residence’ and ‘heat room’ option. Given what he knows about betas, they probably won’t care either way and will leave the choice to Stiles. And with alphas, he figures that more likely than not, he’ll end up having heat sex in the alpha’s place of residence.

He takes his completed forms to the agency then, and after ensuring with Morrell that everything Danny said, is in fact true, he turns in all the necessary documents Morrell needs to boot him into the system.

Morrell lets him know that if/when an alpha, a beta, or a couple chooses him, he will have to go through various medical tests ensuring that his body is fit for pregnancy and, if the alpha wants him to be a genetic donor, make sure he’s fertile. Stiles figures that’s fair enough and agrees to all their terms.

Now, all he has to do is just has to sit back and hope that an alpha, beta, or an alpha/alpha or alpha/beta couple find him appealing enough to bear their children.

* * *

 

Derek calls the surrogacy agency not long after his conversation with Boyd and sets up an appointment for later that week, a week before Thanksgiving. It’s a big step for him, doing this, and although he feels a little anxious and scared at the thought of having a _child_ , he can’t help but feel a sense of rightness about it all.

You know, after he does all of his research about it and convinces himself that going through with this won’t end with him with no baby and with someone expecting something from him.

Because he doesn’t want that; doesn’t want a relationship, doesn’t want someone to share his life with that way. To say his last and only relationship ended terribly would be an understatement, and he doesn’t want to go through that again, least of all with a child in the equation.

Derek wants a family, that much he’s sure of. But to him, family just means kin, someone who shares his blood and his genes. He doesn’t want a significant other or a romantic entanglement or any of the complications that come with that. The last time he was in a relationship, the last time he was in love, or thought he was in love, it ended with the destruction of the very thing he wants now.

He lost his entire family because he gave his heart away to someone who hated who he was, and he won’t make the same mistake again.

So going along with Boyd’s suggestion and looking into surrogacy seems to be like the answer to all of his problems, and he feels good about his decision to set up an appointment and gather more information about it.

What he doesn’t expect is to have that feeling of rightness seep into his bones and make him feel more confident about his choice the moment he stops in front of  the Tree of Life Surrogacy building. He can feel the magic pulsing through the trees surrounding the place, safe and warm and light, telling him everything he needs to know about what kind of people run this place and how they do it. He can feel the sort of earthy, natural power and magic that he associates with druids, and while they put him on edge sometimes, he can just tell that the ones here truly have his best interests at heart.

The shifter managing the reception area, aside from smelling like _prey_ , also doesn’t make his hackles rise, and he plasters a smile on his face as soon as he catches sight of Derek.

“Welcome to Tree of Life Surrogacy sir, my name is Greenberg, how can I help you?”

“Uhm,” Derek balks, not really knowing what to say now that he’s here. “I have an appointment with Braeden.”

“Why don’t you take a seat?” Greenberg gestures him to the living room. “She’ll be with you in a second.”

Derek gives him a stiff nod and makes himself comfortable, or as comfortable as he can while waiting to meet someone and discuss with them his desire to have kids.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but a woman about three years younger than him with claw marks ranging from the hinge of her jaw down to her neck and dressed all in black certainly wasn’t it. Derek can tell straight away she’s a druid, something he suspects everyone who deals with potential clients is, and someone not to be messed with.

“Mr. Hale?” she says sharply, looking at him assessingly. When he nods, she tells him to follow her to the back.

The walk down a hallway, past a long succession of closed doors before reaching one with the nameplate ‘B’ on the front. Derek walks in and takes a seat, not sure what to expect next.

“Mr. Hale, as you already know, my name is Braeden. I am one of the certified Family Therapists we have at the agency and I work mostly with single Alpha parents who are looking for a surrogate to carry their child. Can you tell me what brought you here today?”

Derek shifts in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable, and has to take a few seconds to get his head together.

He even opens and closes his mouth a few times without making a sound before he says, “I want- I’d like to start a family of my own.”

“You’ve obviously come to the right place,” Braeden says, lips quirking up. “Can I ask why you decided to go with the surrogate route?”

Derek presses his lips together, feeling himself frown, and he comes out sounding snappier than he’d intended, “Having a relationship is not really an option for me.”

Braeden nods, expression clear, as if Derek’s inability to date someone is nothing he should be ashamed of. Not that he thinks it is, but still, it’s nice having someone who doesn’t think less of him for it.

“That’s perfectly fine. So let’s start with making up a profile for you. It’ll include everything from what you are looking for in a surrogate to the terms of the surrogacy, payment information and the various options you have as far as fertilization is concerned. We can stop at any time, and you are free to ask me as many questions as you’d like. How does that sound?”

Derek relaxes again, that sounds good. He really appreciates how patient Braeden is being with him, he knows he’s not exactly the easiest person to deal with.Or very forthcoming about, well, anything.

“Before we begin though, can I just ask about your past surrogacies?” Derek asks, because this is something he’s been worrying about. “Have you ever had a surrogacy fall through or had the omega end up keeping the baby?”

Dammit, he’s tense again. He hates the idea of fathering a child that won’t end up going home with him in case the surrogate decides that they want to keep the baby. Or worse, that they want to keep the baby _and Derek_.

Braeden looks at him reassuringly. “Mr Hale, our policy here at TOL Surrogacy is families first. Our surrogates sign several different documents saying that they are giving up all the rights to the child they conceive, no matter if it contains their DNA or not. The child will be yours alone, you can be sure of that.”

“What about the case of a surrogate wanting to terminate the pregnancy?”

Braeden looks at him thoughtfully, and he knows that she isn’t going to sugarcoat anything for him. “I have heard of that happening at other agencies but it has never happened to us, here at TOL. When our omegas sign on for surrogacy, we ensure that they know what they’re getting into, that termination should not be an option for any reason other than if their life is in danger. However, our omegas do have agency over their bodies. If they need to end a pregnancy for some reason, we must assume that they are doing so after significant consideration. I’m afraid I can’t say anything more about it, because in the end it’s their body and their choice.When you are matched with a surrogate, you are free to have this conversation with them as well and get their opinion on the matter.”

That alleviates some of his tension, mostly because Braeden has a way of speaking both confidently and matter of factly and he doesn’t for a minute doubt what she’s saying. He still makes a mental note to bring that up with whoever he gets matched with, because even though he agrees the decision should be left to the omega carrying his child, he doesn’t think he’d deal well _at all_ with having them end the pregnancy.

“Okay, let’s start with the profile then,” he says finally, ready to move forward with this.

“Before we match you up with someone, though, I have to inform you we’ll have to do background check on you,” Braeden tells him, with a look on her face that she’ll take no shit or objections from him. “It’s standard procedure so we know who we’re dealing with, so we can protect any omega that chooses to be a surrogate for us, and also so we can ensure that any child born will be left to great parents and a safe place to live.”

Derek nods, thinking that’s more than acceptable.

He fills out the forms then, stopping sometimes to ask Braeden why they are asking about particular things. Apparently the more things he puts down, the better chance they have of matching him with a surrogate who is compatible with him both physically and emotionally.

When he gets to the fertilization option, he marks down both the option for IVF and heat sex.It’s been awhile since he’s been intimate with someone else, and while he’s even entertained the thought of being with someone in that capacity...to say he has issues regarding sex and intimacy would be an understatement, but he thinks he might be able to do it if the act is going to result in him having a _child_. If he’s attracted to the surrogate, he’ll help them personally through their heat, knowing that omegas suffers during that week and knowing he’ll be doing something to help them through it; if not IVF is a completely valid option.

The next part asks if he would want the surrogate to live with him and how involved he’d like to be with them _—_ if he wants to go with the surrogate to things like breathing classes and doctor’s appointments, and _yes_ he definitely wants that. He wants to be there for every part of his kids life, starting from conception. He checks the box that says the surrogate will live with him for the duration of the pregnancy.

Lastly, there’s a section labelled ‘heat rooms’ and when he asks Braeden about it, she explains that surrogacy agencies offer heat rooms if the heat sex option is marked down and that it is a safe place for the omega’s heat week.

Derek kind of blanches at the idea,of being somewhere foreign and sterile when he’s doing something so personal. He bypasses that option completely, instead marking down that he would prefer to provide his own home for that.

He also makes sure to write down his preference for male omegas. He’s had some extremely bad experiences with females, and he doesn’t want to bring that with him when the time to conceive his child comes.

The very last portion of the form mentions that he has to visit an agency doctor and get tested for STI’s and fertility. He signs and initials where he’s supposed to, agreeing to all of it. It’s for the safety of everyone concerned, how could he not?

He’s there for nearly three hours, dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s, Braeden walking him patiently through the whole thing.

By the end of it, Derek’s not only looking forward to the whole thing, but also a little excited by it. It finally feels like he’s doing something, not because he _has_ to, but because he _wants_ to, and that’s a _damn good_ feeling.

He wonders if his parents would have been proud.

* * *

 

Almost a week after Stiles has his meeting with Marin, he gets a call from her just as he’s finishing a shift at the bookstore. He tucks the phone in between his ear and shoulder as he goes around straightening up. There had been a group of kids who came in earlier and made an absolute mess of the place.

“This is Stiles.”

“Stiles, hello, this is Marin from TOL Surrogacy. We have an alpha here who we think might be a good match for you. Do you think you could come by next Monday, on December second, around noon to meet him?”

Woah.

That was fast.

Stiles wasn’t really expecting to be matched up so soon. Danny said that it had been about a month and a half before he had a meeting with an alpha. But then again, Danny also had met a several different couples before he ended up with Lydia and Jackson.

There’s no harm in meeting whoever this is, since he knows he can always say no if he ends up disliking them.

“Sure, I can be there!”

“Excellent,”Marin says, and Stiles can hear the smile on her voice. “You’ll meet with me first so I can tell you a little bit about him, and what to expect from the meeting and then we’ll go ahead and get together with Mr. Hale and his case agent. Does that sound okay?”

“Sure, yeah, that sounds fine.”

“Great, I’ll let Mr. Hale know. See you then, Stiles. Have a good day.”

Stiles has no idea what to think right now, but he _does_ like the sound of ‘Mr. Hale’.

Guess he’ll just have to wait and see.

 


	2. Well, I guess it would be nice if I could touch your body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Now, Mr. Stilinski, are you ready to meet Mr. Hale?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the song [Faith by George Mchael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lu3VTngm1F0&noredirect=1) (yes, it’s cracky, we know).
> 
> First off, we’d like to thank everyone for the comments and kudos and subscriptions! We are blown away by all the love! :D
> 
> Second, a couple of answers to the questions you had: a) There is much more backstory coming, b) We promise this story will be a lot fluffier than you guys might think, and c) Anyone confused about the A/B/O dynamics please refer to our [Settle Down 'Verse Orientation Breakdown](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/sdch). 
> 
> And third, have a good time reading!
> 
> xoxo,  
> J & P

Stiles is nervous.

Because in about thirty minutes he’s gonna meet his potential _baby daddy_.

He’s at the agency already, sitting on one of the waiting room sofas again, hands clasped over his lap, fingers linked to keep himself from fidgeting, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. He’s glad it doesn’t take long for Marin to call him in, and she takes him to the same room as before _—_ her office, because that doesn't give him enough time to work himself into a panic attack. Because he’s gonna meet his potential baby daddy. _Today_.

“Welcome back, Mr. Stilinski,” Marin smiles warmly at him. “Thanks for being able to meet on such short notice.”

Stiles holds back a snort.

Hey, the faster he gets pregnant, the faster he gets paid right? But he can’t exactly _say_ that.

“It’s really no problem at all,” he says finally, because it honestly isn’t. He’s not supposed to be working at the bookshop right now and he’s obviously getting no where with his writing. Like _that’s_ news.

Hopefully getting pregnant and having nothing else to do but grow a child inside of him for nine months will give him some inspiration.

She smiles. “So the potential parent we have for you is a single alpha male. The fact that he is a match simply means that we, at the agency, think you will be compatible. If you don’t want to meet him, or you meet him and choose not to be his surrogate, that’s completely fine. His name is Derek Hale and he’s also an Alpha werewolf. How do you feel about that?”

Wow. How _does_ he feel about that? He really only knows two Alpha werewolves _—_ the feral one he and his friends _killed_ when they were in high school after he attacked Scott and Lydia, and Scott. He doesn’t really know many werewolves either, just Scott and Jackson, andeven though Scott is an Alpha werewolf, they both have beta orientations.

Given all that, he’s not really sure _what_ to think about the entire situation.

“Well, I don’t really know about that, actually. I’m fine to meet the guy, though,” Stiles says, shrugging. He’s not obligated to do anything, so what could it hurt, really? He just has to go _see_ the guy first, and then he’ll make up his mind. He's always been a good judge of character.

Something occurs to him then, and that makes him turn to Marin, suddenly worried. “He’s not like, way older is he?”

The feral Alpha, Deucalion, had been a lot older than them, older than his dad even, not to mention pretty fucking scary. If Stiles is going to do this, he’d prefer it be with someone who’s around his age, if not a few years older. Any thing else would just make him too uncomfortable. If this Alpha is any older than his father, he’s not even going to bother meeting with him.

Speaking of which, his _dad_.

To say he was surprised when Stiles called him to let him know about his plans on how to survive for the next few months of his life is a gross understatement.

Nevermind that he’s been Stiles’s father for over two decades and should probably be used to his kid’s ideas by now.

It had taken a _lot_ of very frustrating conversations and long winded explanations on Stiles’s part, but he thinks his father is on board now.

He’s still not convinced that his dad thinks this is a good idea, but he seems to be tentatively supportive of Stiles’s decision. And that, for Stiles, is more than enough.

He was actually the one to suggest the age limit thing after Stiles told him about Danny, his interview at TOL, and signing up as one of their surrogates. Something Stiles realizes he’s _extremely_ thankful for now that he’s here and about to meet a potential alpha.

Marin shakes her head. “No, according to the paperwork he’s thirty years old, an architect, and Alpha to three Beta ‘wolves, all who live here in New York City.”

Stiles breathes out a sigh of relief.

Thank god. He’s only three years older than Stiles. That’s good. No, scratch that.That’s perfect.

And then the second bit of what she said registers.

“Architect, huh? That means he’s probably got a sweet pad,” Stiles says, wondering if he’ll get to stay there when he’s pregnant. Visions of infinity pools and huge kitchens with maple woodwork and marble counters come to his mind.

Stiles could make that work.

Actually, now he’s kind of looking forward to it and hoping to fuck this guy isn’t some sort of creeper.

“We can’t reveal any addresses until you and Mr. Hale have chosen each other and have entered into an official contract.” She pauses for a second here and smirks at him. “I think you’ll probably be pleased though.”

Stiles grins at her. A woman after his own heart.

“So, Stiles, I know you marked down both options for fertilization-IVF _and_ heat sex, and I believe Mr. Hale has done the same. Part of what you two will need to talk about and decide before you sign the documents is which one you are going to go with. That is not something you have to decide today however.”

Stiles nods and asks, “So what’s the plan for today, then?”

“For today, we are going to see how you two initially react to each other, and then, if it’s positive, we will go ahead and send you both to agency doctors,”Marin tells him. “Both of you will be tested for fertility and STIs while we will additionally have to check your hormone levels, Stiles, so we can make sure you will have a viable pregnancy. This _still_ doesn’t mean you are obligated in anyway. After test results come in and everything is clear, there will be a second meeting where you can talk again. Here, you can make a decision one way or another, or choose to meet for a third time.”

Stiles nods again, knowing most of this from his conversation with Danny before getting here. He’s relieved everything seems to check out with the information he already has, that way he already feels a little bit more prepared about what’s going on.

“That sounds good to me,” Stiles says, giving Marin a small and nervous smile.

Because even knowing about the process and what he’ll have to do in case they take things forward doesn’t make him any less anxious about meeting this Derek guy.

And Stiles knows he’s being a little shallow, but what if the guy’s _ugly_? What if he’s skeevy and greasy and smells bad? He knows he can veto whoever the agency matches him up with, but still. _What if?_

Marin doesn’t seem to notice his internal freak out _—_ or if she does, she doesn’t mention it _—_ because she keeps right on talking.

“Something we also offer to surrogates for supernaturals is the possibility of them taking anatomy lessons if needed,” Marin says, lips tugging up when Stiles chokes on his tongue and gapes. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary in your case, though.”

Stiles grimaces.

He still remembers The Dick Freak Out from back in high school that Scott made him promise not to mention to anyone. _Ever_. Said freak out already told him everything he needs to know about werewolf anatomy. Which, when it comes to Scott, is way too much.

“It really won’t be,” Stiles shakes his head, noticing the way Marin presses her lips together as if trying not to laugh.

“Well, if you two find that you are a match and decide to go through with the process, we’ll have a more in depth conversation about what’s expected of both of you and how things will proceed,” Marin says, sounding business-like as usual. “But that’s for later. Now, do you have any questions?”

He leans forward, hoping the expression on his face isn’t as conspiratorial as the thoughts in his head.

“Is he cute?”

Stiles obviously doesn’t have them.

And by the look on Morrell’s stern but still a little amused face, he’s guessing she knows that.

And it’s not like Stiles doesn’t know this is a serious situation, but joking around when talking about heavy subjects is kind of something he does. So this time it’s no different.

“I’ll leave that for you to decide,” Marin says, and then adds, “I don’t really have any opinion on that particular matter. But I think you’ll be pleased.”

Before Stiles can say anything to that _—_ like maybe try and convince her to let him take a look at Mr. Hale’s, _Derek’s_ , file—someone knocks on the door.

“Come in,” Marin says, raising an eyebrow expectantly when the person Stiles assumes to be her secretary steps into the room.

“Braeden is almost done with Mr. Hale,” the young man says, waiting for Marin to nod before dismissing himself and closing the door behind him.

Stiles can’t help the way his stomach flips and he goes back to feeling anxious about this whole thing at hearing Mr. Hale is here, his eyes darting from the door to Marin and back again.

“If you’ll follow me, Mr. Stilinski,” Marin says, gathering her things and standing up. “We usually conduct these first meetings at one of the agency’s meeting rooms, and that’s where we’ll be going now. I’ll be with you at all times, so if there’s anything you need don’t hesitate to ask me. Aside from Mr. Hale, you’ll also be meeting my partner, Braeden. She’s a druid and an omega like me, and she deals mostly withsupernatural alpha single parents looking for surrogates.”

Stiles kind of startles at the casual way Marin reveals herself and her partner to him as a druids, barely managing to keep himself from tripping on his own feet as they keep walking. He figured from the aspect of the building and its clientele that whoever ran this place must also be some sort of supernatural creature, but he hadn’t known what kind.

That also explains the agency’s take on omegas and how they are their top priority. From the little Stiles has managed to learn about druids, he knows all of them have an omega orientation. In a way, that makes him feel a little bit better about all of this—knowing that he’ll be taken care of, because the people running things don’t have any misconceptions about who he should be or how he should act or be treated.

“So you’ll both be there with us?” Stiles asks, licking his lips.

“At all times,” Marin says again, leading him down the hallway and past several rooms until they reach a door at the very end ofit, presumably, the meeting room they’ll be using. “We’re aware first meetings sometimes can be difficult, and we value your safety and comfort above all things. We’ll be there to ensure everything runs smoothly and that no lines will be crossed.”

Stiles blinks, not really knowing how to feel about that.

“Are lines being crossed something that usually happens?”

“No,” Marin says without hesitation, eyes sparking. “There’s a reason why the building is surrounded by trees and protected by magic. This isn’t something you need to worry about, being human, but all supernatural creatures that enter the building know that we, the druids, can wield that magic if necessary. We pride ourselves in being a secure place where people can come to in times of need without having to worry about repercussion. Neutral territory, if you will. So we don’t take it lightly when someone breaches that trust.”

Stiles blinks again.

“So what you’re saying is that people know better than to try and do something.”

“Yes,” Marin says, gesturing for Stiles to take a seat at one of the empty chairs by the table. “That is what I am saying, Mr. Stilinski. So you don’t have to be nervous about meeting Mr. Hale. Braeden and I will be here, and we won’t hesitate to interfere if we sense something is wrong. And you know you also have the option to end the meeting or opt out of the proceedings at any time if you feel uncomfortable or like this isn’t something you want to do. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t,” Stiles tells her, throat dry.

He knows this is supposed to make him feel better, and in a way it does, knowing that he’s safe while he’s here, but he’s still kind of nervous.

Since, you know, he’s about to meet someone who might or might not get him knocked up during his next heat.

Nerves that only worsenwhen Marin gives him a sharp nod and asks, “Now, Mr. Stilinski, are you ready to meet Mr. Hale?”

* * *

Derek’s nervous.

Because a few days ago he received a call from the agency letting him know they found a surrogate that seems like a good match for him. A surrogate he’s supposed to _meet_ in a few minutes. Someone who, depending on how this meeting goes, might end up pregnant with his _child_.

So yes, Derek’s nervous, as he sits in one of the waiting room sofas and, well, _waits_.

So nervous it takes him a moment to realize someone’s been calling him name for a while now, and he’s not able to hide his surprise when he looks up to see Braeden in front of him, her lips forming an amused smile.

“Mr. Hale, if we could step into my office for a few minutes,” Braeden says, tilting her head to the side. “We still need to discuss a few things before I can give you the all clear to go ahead and meet your potential surrogate.”

“Sorry, yes,” Derek says, flustered, following behind her as they walk to the same office he was in the first time he was here.

“You don’t have to be nervous, you know,” Braeden throws over her shoulder, letting Derek inside before closing the door behind her. “Just because this is the first surrogate we paired you with, it doesn’t mean they’ll be the one to do this with you. You might not feel comfortable around each other.”

Derek presses his lips together, aware his discomfort and nervousness are showing on his face. Because while what Braeden said might be true, it still doesn’t mean this meeting won’t be important.

She doesn’t seem to be waiting for a response, though, because as soon as Derek makes himself comfortable in one of her office chairs she starts speaking.

“So Mr. Hale, the surrogate we have matched you up with today is a human, though he’s well versed in werewolf lore and pack dynamics,” Braeden says. “Mr. Silinski is twenty seven years old, a struggling author and a resident of New York City. He is in a pack himself, so you will need to determine whether or not that is a problem for you.”

Derek lets out a sigh of relief at knowing Mr. Stilinski knows about werewolves and is part of a pack. That means he’s used to dealing with werewolves on a daily-basis and probably won’t have that much trouble getting used to Derek and his pack in case they decide to take things forward.

“I don’t have a problem with it if his Alpha doesn’t either,” he tells her, even though he figures Mr. Stilinski already has his Alpha’s approval to be doing this. “I’m assuming that if I wanted to meet his Alpha, I’d have to speak to Mr. Stilinski?”

“You’d be correct,” Braeden nods. “I also need to remind you that interest goes both ways, and that just because you are interested in continuing the process, nothing happens until both of you are on board. We can chat about it later today if you’d like, but it is agency policy that no contracts be signed until at least a week after the first meeting. Sometimes it takes longer, and we always make not to rush anything and see that both parties are in agreement with everything.”

“That’s okay,” Derek says, knowing he wants whoever he’s going to do this with to be aware and okay with what will happen.

“And if this match doesn’t end up in a contract, we will find you another omega match as soon as possible.”

Derek takes this all in stride, because it’s only fair, after all. He remembers how people can be total _dicks_ to omegas; he knows his dad had a few stories about it. So he’s not going to try and force anyone to do anything they don’t want just because _he_ wants it and because he’s an alpha.

“That’s okay, I know that consent and comfort are important for everyone involved. I’d want nothing less.”

Especially considering this will involve a _pregnancy_ , and nine months is a long time for someone to be doing something they’re not a hundred percent sure they want to do.

Braeden nods at him. “Exactly Mr. Hale,” she says as she arranges some papers on her desk than, picking up a folder and then looking back up at him. “Well, unless you have any questions it should be okay for us to move to the meeting room where my partner, Marin Morrell, and Mr. Stilinski are waiting.”

“There’s nothing I can think of,” Derek admits, mind too busy thinking about the fact that he’s about to meet Mr. Stilinski. “But I’ll reserve the right to ask questions later, though.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Braeden says as they step out of the office. “Don’t hesitate to come talk to me about whatever’s on your mind. That’s what I’m here for.”

“I won’t,” Derek promises, knowing that even though he’s not a person who usually talks to others about anything, he’ll do it with Braeden.

She’s done wonderfully with making him feel comfortable around her, something that’s not easily accomplished, and he’s glad to have her as his go-to person at the agency.

“Good,” Braeden says, stopping a few feet from the room Derek assumes is the one they’ll be using. “Just so you’re aware, Marin and I will be with you and Mr. Stilinski during the duration of your first meeting. It’s agency policy to have both of us present to make sure everything turns out okay.”

Derek swallows, figuring that’s agency policy to make sure none of their clients will try anything while being in the same room as one of their omega surrogates. Not that Derek knows anyone who would be dumb enough to try and go against druids in their own place. He knows he isn’t. Not that he would _ever_ do something _to_ or _with_ anyone without their explicit consent.

“I understand.”

“Alright, then,” Braeden says, taking the final steps until she’s standing in front of the door that leads to the meeting room. “Are you ready to meet Mr. Stilinski?”

Derek nods his assent, even though _ready_ wouldn’t be the word he’d use. Because, to be honest, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready to meet the person who will probably end up carrying his baby.

And he turns out to be absolutely right, because as soon as Braeden opens the door and motions him inside, it’s only to stare at the most attractive guy he thinks he’s ever seen. Or at least that he thinks he’s ever seen in a while.

Stilinski is all pale skin dotted with moles and expressive doe eyes that should make him look like prey but give him a sense of being wise beyond his years instead. His hairlooks like a bird’s nest, like the guy just rolled out of bed and showed up here. Derek should find it immature and odious, but instead he kind of wants to run his fingers through the strands to see if they’re as soft as they look. Stilinski’s lips are full and lush and pink, and just _pretty_ , there’s really no other word for it. The guy’s body is long and lean and lithe, all sharp lines and dark hair and the contrast of it all is delicious, something Derek can tell even though he’s sitting down.

Derek gets lost staring at him for a few seconds.

So lost it takes Braeden’s hand on his elbow for him to realize he’s been standing and staring and probably not making one of the best first impressions. He can almost hear Erica’s voice in his head telling him to stop acting like a creeper.

And he’s so lost it takes him actually sitting down and letting his senses focus on the room he’s in, not to mention the people in it, for him to notice the _smell_.

The smell of grass and vanilla wrapped around the sharp hints of coffee beans, along with  sweat, the distinctive scent of _human_ , and the sweet tangy scent associated with omegas. Derek can smell faint hints of a couple different werewolves paired with a couple other possibly supernatural scents he can’t properly identify. It’s terribly familiar though, and just that small fact makes him feel safer somehow, like this is someone he can trust. There’s the faintest trace of gunsmoke as well; something Derek never would have caught normally but everything about this scent is _so_ appealing, he wants to remember every detail.

Derek alsokind of wants to roll around in it. Roll around _with_ this gorgeous guy.

And, if everything goes well today, he might actually have that opportunity.

Right now, though? All he can think about is how he’s mostly surprised.

_Pleasantly_ surprised, that is, because it’s been a while since he’s reacted this way to anyone.

It’s been awhile since he’s felt _excitement_ , and desire, and just pure _want_.

That’s when the sweet scent of cinnamon hits him, and Derek can’t help but suppress a smile.

Apparently, he’s not the only one.

* * *

Stiles thinks he’s going to fall over, because standing by the door is the most attractive guy he thinks he’s ever seen.

In, like, ever.

The guy is all lush black hair, cheekbones that could cut glass and _muscles_. Muscles _everywhere._ He looks like the type of guy who could hold Stiles up against a wall and fuck him until he passed out. Stiles wants that.

A _lot_.

And judging by the small smirk that appears on Hale’s face, he totally knows it too.

Damn werewolves, smelling other people’s boners.

And don’t even get Stiles started on the guy’s _eyes._ He can see green mostly, and it’s _gorgeous_ , but there’s also hints of blue and brown and yellow. There’s so much happening there, that Stiles could look at them for _ever_ and still be completely incapable of describing them.

Stiles gets lost staring at him for a few seconds.

So lost it takes him a while to realize Marin is introducing Braeden, and he probably raises a hand in a wave a beat too late. And he _blushes_. Not that Braeden calls him on it, tilting her head in acknowledgement and letting her lips curl up in a small smile. Stiles instantly likes her.

He makes sure to pay attention when Marin turns to Mr. Hale, though, because there’s no way in hell he’s gonna miss a chance to learn more about _him_.

“Mr. Stilinski, this is Derek Hale. Derek, this is Mr. Stilinski,” Marin says, and then stops, glancing at Stiles. “He actually hasn’t given us a first name.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, cheeks still slightly red. “No one should have to go through that torture, okay?” He turns to Derek. “Call me Stiles.”

“Stiles Stilinski?” Derek blinks.

Stiles glares. He can’t help it. He’s heard that one way too many times already, and he can’t muster up the energy to be polite about people making fun of his name anymore. “Yes. No living person but my father knows my first name.” He narrows his eyes, “And it’s going to _stay that way._ ”

He wants to be very clear from the beginning. Yes, he’s an omega and has heats and can make babies but that does not make him in any way submissive to Derek. And if Derek can’t handle that, then this isn’t the right match for him, no matter how aesthetically pleasing Stiles finds Derek.

Derek looks a little taken aback by him for a moment, but that shifts into something else very quickly. Kind of like Derek is actually _pleased_ Stiles talked back to him. And that’s something that surprises _Stiles_ , because aside from his friends and his dad, he’s not used to alphas liking the way he refuses to be anything other than himself around them.

Marin rolls her eyes at him. He kind of likes that they’re acting like friends now. It makes the whole thing a little less daunting. And it’s also kind of funny to see someone as professional as Marin to break out of that image, even if for just a moment.

“Okay, Stiles,” she looks between him and Derek, and must see something that she approves of because she’s smiling widely now. “Why don’t you and Derek tell each other a little about what brought you guys here today, what you’re looking for and such. Braeden and I will stay in the room as per TOL policy, but we won’t interrupt. We’d like you guys to be the ones to talk.”

Stiles nods slowly at her, and then turns to Derek, who’s still looking at him intently, almost like just by _staring_ he can find out all of Stiles’s secrets. The intensity of the look kind of makes Stiles want to squirm in his seat, but he refuses to give Derek the satisfaction of knowing how much he affects him.

So he does what he does best, and starts talking.

Since it seems like Derek’s too busy _looking_ to open his mouth and do it.

“So I don’t know how much you know, but yeah, the name’s Stiles. I’m twenty-seven and a writer, I went to NYU for undergrad and Columbia for graduate school. I wrote a book a couple years ago that was basically about how my high school years were straight from a horror movie, but nothing since has really clicked with the publishers so nowadays I work at a bookstore.”

Stiles looks up to see if Derek wants to chime in at any point. Because if there’s one thing Stiles can do, it’s talk. He can talk _forever_. He’ll just keep blabbing until someone stops him.

Derek, however, doesn't really look inclined to stop him. At all.

Which is another thing he’s not used to seeing from alphas, or betas and other omegas either, who doesn’t hesitate to tell Stiles to shut up whenever he starts talking too much.

“I know all about werewolves of course,” Stiles says, even though it’s pretty much a given already. “There was this, ah, incident? Back when I was in high school? That’s where the idea of my first book came from. This guy, Deucalion, was an Alpha and went kinda crazy. Feral, I mean. Like full on out of his mind. I think he was cursed by a witch or something? Anyway, he ended up biting a couple of my friends, and let me tell you, that was _not_ a fun year. Pretty sure I almost died five different times.”

Derek’s raising an eyebrow at him now and looks a little amused and also kind of worried, but he still hasn’t made any effort to actually converse back.

So naturally, Stiles just keeps talking. “Right, and it wasn’t even Deucalion all those times? Scott, my best friend, and now my Alpha, I guess, was responsible for at least two of those near death experiences. Anyways, the whole thing ended with a dead feral werewolf and half the Sheriff’s station showing up with Scott and me standing over said dead feral werewolf with Lydia standing off to the side with a rifle. You know, after she woke up from her coma.”

Stiles stops there, because Derek is going to say something dammit. He’s not saying anymore until he’s _asked_. Aside from, apparently, telling Derek why he’s here. Since _Marin_ asked. Or told him to do at the beginning of all of this.

“But nevermind that,” Stiles waves a hand. “Well, I mean, mind Lydia, because it’s kind of because of her that I’m here. She and her husband just had their baby, a cute and perfect little angel named Dawn, through a surrogate here. I was pretty close to the three of them during the whole pregnancy, and I really liked the thought of being able to give a couple or a person someone as cute as Dawn. And that’s why I’m here.”

He doesn’t add the part about him needing the money, figuring it’s best to just keep that between himself and Marin for now.

Plus Derek’s entire stance changes the minuteStilesmentions a baby, and ‘Lydia and her husband’. His face softens, and his eyes go all fond and Stiles can _see_ how much Derek wants this. It kind of makes his own expression soft in return, knowing that if they end up doing this together, the kid will be with someone who wants them and will obviously love them lots.

“That’s...that’s really great of you, Stiles.”

Ah, finally! We have _words_ , ladies and gentlemen!

Stiles only barely manages to keep from doing a little victory dance at hearing Derek talk. He’s glad he gets distracted by Derek’s voice before he can do something to embarrass himself, amazed at how Derek doesn’t sound as gruff as he looks.

It kind of does _things_ to Stiles knowing Derek’s voice is a little higher and softer than what someone would associate with an Alpha werewolf with an alpha orientation. _Good_ things. _Boner_ related things.

Something Stiles thinks Derek can tell, by the way he takes a deep breath through his nose and his eyes darken a little.

Damn werewolves.

So of course Stiles tries to distract Derek from smelling Stiles’s attraction by blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

“I’m a pretty great person, so.”

Derek makes a choked-up noise between a laugh and huff, shaking his head at Stiles before saying, “The jury’s still out on that one.”

“Yeah, well,” Stiles purses his lips together. “Same to you, man. How about _you_ tell me something about yourself now?”

Derek seems to straighten in his seat at that, shoulders going a bit tense as if he’s readying himself for something. Stiles doesn’t really understand that reaction, but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it before Derek starts speaking.

“You can call me Derek,” Derek starts slowly, as if measuring his words. “I’m thirty years old and I work as an architect at Wolfe & Mann—”

Stiles snorts.

He can’t help it.

A _werewolf_ working for a firm called _Wolfe & Mann_?

Derek seems to know where his thoughts are going, but instead of looking annoyed at the obvious joke to be made, he _smirks_. “It’s actually my company. There’s no Wolfe or Mann.”

Stiles grins. “There’s only you? The _wolfman_?”

Derek shrugs, the tips of his ears turning red. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. And my pack liked it.”

“Your pack?” Stiles perks up, always eager to learn more about how other packs work or are formed considering how unusual Scott’s pack is.

Derek doesn’t seem to keen on offering that much information about them, though, pretty much only telling Stiles what he already knew from his conversation with Marin.

It’s not until Derek starts talking about _why_ he’s here that he seems a little more open, but Stiles still notices that Derek is very careful about what words he uses and how he says things. Kind of like he doesn’t want to give too much away.

Which Stiles understands, he guesses, in case they don’t end up doing this together.

“My pack is stable,” Derek says, looking down at his hands. “Being part of a pack yourself, you know how the bond through a bite or submission works. But sometimes the wolf still craves a blood connection, someone that’s part of him not only because of that but because of _kin_. At this point, it’s basically instinct.”

“You’re craving a family,” Stiles says softly, understanding a little bit better why Derek would be here.

Especially when Derek gives a minute flinch at the word _family_.

Because Stiles knows sometimes it’s still a little bit hard for him to listen to Scott talking to his mom without missing his own.

Stiles’s heart breaks for him.

Because if Derek is craving a family through blood and not choice, then it means he doesn’t have one of his own anymore.

“That’s why I’m here,” Derek answers just as soft, staring up at Stiles from under his lashes.

And that’s when Stiles decides that, if Derek will have him, he’ll make sure to give Derek exactly what he’s been wishing for.

* * *

Derek can smell the faint scent of arousal coming from Stiles pretty much the entire time they talk. But, after Derek explains to him why he’s here, that cinnamon scent somehow shifts into something _warmer_ , something that kind of makes Derek want to bury his nose against Stiles’s throat and breathe him in forever.

It’s an unusual enough reaction for him that it makes the decision to have Stiles as his surrogate easier than he thought it would be.

Not only does he like the way Stiles smells, but he also likes how Stiles looks and the sound of his voice and the way he moves his hands while he’s talking. It’s kind of hypnotizing. It’s why he didn’t stop Stiles from his babbles earlier. He got to listen to him talk, which was actually pretty soothing, _and_ learn about the guy.

He also likes the way Stiles spoke about his friend Lydia, about her having a surrogate, and about how he was there, and familiar with the entire process. It’s reassuring that Stiles knows what he’s getting into completely; that he’s seen a surrogate have a baby and then give it to the parents.

What he likes most, though, is probably the way Stiles was not afraid to speak his mind when he thought Derek was being a jackass. He has no problem with other people speaking their mind. In fact, he almost _prefers_ it. It helps him get out of his head, worrying about whether he’s said something offensive, and likes the idea of Stiles calling him out on his shit.

So Derek hopes Stiles doesn’t find his staring creepy and agrees to do this with him. Because Derek knows he wants him for his surrogate; now that he’s met Stiles, he doesn’t think there’s anyone else he could do this with.

He’s feeling torn between happiness and excitement and nervousness when he notices Braeden and Marin are getting up.

“Our time is up,” Marin says, looking apologetic. “This seemed to be a very satisfying first meeting, but we won’t ask for your thoughts on it right now. TOL gives the parent and surrogate some time before making a decision, so you can think more deeply about whether or not you’d like to continue things with each other.”

Derek stands up then too, unsure of whether or not he should say something, unsure whether he should let Stiles know what he’s thinking, about how he’s absolutely interested in Stiles being his surrogate. As far as he’s concerned they can just get this whole ball rolling.

He’s biting his lip, still debating internally on whether or not he should say anything when Stiles speaks up.

“I know this isn’t really how this was supposed to go, but Derek,” the guy’s looking up at Derek now, all warm honey eyes through dark, thick lashes, and Derek feels something warm and _right_ in his gut at the sight. “I’m in. As far as I’m concerned, we should just go ahead and schedule that second meeting.”

He can’t really help how his lips curl up then, and the way Stiles's expression brightens in response just makes his smile even wider.

“Yeah. I. Yes. That sounds okay to me.”

That sounds _perfect_ to him. That sounds like everything he wanted to say to Stiles, but didn’t know how to without coming on too strong.

Stiles beams at him then, and jumps up. He moves over to where Derek is standing, and holds his arm out. Derek takes it, grasping Stiles’s palm firmly in his own, and revels in the touch, the warmth of Stiles’s hand, the softness of his skin.

“Can I—,” he doesn’t really know how to ask for what he wants, doesn’t know how to say he wants more, needs to be _closer_.

Stiles inches closer, like he knows exactly what Derek’s thinking then and wraps his arms Derek’s shoulders with little hesitation, bringing him into a loose hug.

Derek immediately brings his arms around Stiles’s waist and his nose to the crook of Stiles’s neck. It’s covered with his collared shirt, so it’s not skin like he’d like, but still, it’s enough for now. It’s warm and comforting and relaxes him completely. It’s still pure, unadulterated _Stiles_ , and it’s nice.

_Really really_ nice.

They stay like that for a moment, and when they break apart, Derek feels a little dazed, and Stiles looks a little like how Derek feels. His eyes are a little blown and he’s smiling softly and Derek really likes it. Likes that he’s the cause of it.

He looks over at Braeden, then, and she and Marin are standing close together and smiling appreciatively, and a little smugly. He supposes they’re allowed; they both kind of hit a home run on this one.

“Okay, boys, if you’re sure, Marin and I can start drawing up the paperwork,” Braeden tells them. “In the mean time, you two will need to make appointments with the agency doctors and as soon as we have your results, we’ll call you back for a second meeting.”

“That’s not a problem,” Derek says, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach at knowing this is _really happening_.

And not only is it really happening, but it’s happening with someone he feels completely relaxed and comfortable around.

“Same here,” Stiles pipes up, offering Derek a smile when Derek turns to look at him.

“Well, I think that’s all for today,” Marin clasps her hands together, eyes glinting as she glanced from Derek to Stiles and back again. “Greenberg at the reception can help you both set up appointments with one of our doctors. ”

“Sounds good to me,” Stiles says, grinning easily at Derek. He can’t really put into words how much he likes that expression on Stiles’s face. If he’s being honest, he really hasn’t come across one he _doesn’t_ like.

Braeden and Marin make moves to open the door so they can leave the room and move to the reception, but Derek stops Stiles with a hand on his arm before he can walk away.

He feels like it’s important for him to let Stiles know just how much he appreciates this, what Stiles is doing for him—giving him back something he lost long ago. A _family_.

Words fail him at the moment, though, when those honey brown eyes lock with his, and all he’s able to say is a whispered, “Thank you.”

He thinks Stiles gets it, or that something must show on his face, because no sooner the words are out and Stiles is covering Derek’s fingers on his arm with his hand, giving them a squeeze.

“How about we wait until your kid gets here for you to thank me?” Stiles says softly, only for his expression to change into one of amusement when he adds. “Or until I’m so big I can’t even get out of bed and I make you do everything for me?”

Derek’s insides turn liquid at the thought of Stiles heavy with his child, and he can’t do anything more than nod and answer, “I’m looking forward to it.”

Stiles winks at him and drops his hand, pushing past Derek and out of the room, Marin following behind him.

Derek’s stomach flips again as he watches him go, and he promptly ignores the knowing looks Braeden keeps sending his way.

Because it’s understandable he’d be feeling like this at knowing he’s going to have a child and then meeting who he’s going to have a child with, right?

Right.

Or at least that’s what Derek keeps telling himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update: **May 23rd, around 5pm EST.**


	3. When it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month, your year, I’ll be there for you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It makes him a little nervous to think about seeing Derek again, but he’s still firm on the decision he made when he first met him. He wants to give Derek this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a few things:  
> 1) For those of you wondering about the rating, we _will_ be changing it. Eventually. When the content of the fic warrants it.  
>  2) Anyone still confused about our A/B/O Orientation and what the different distinctions mean can look at the new description regarding orientations on our [Settle Down 'Verse Orientation Breakdown](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/sdch).  
> 3) Chapter title from this lovely song: [I’ll Be There For You by The Rembrandts](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jUSXZAtCaRQ&feature=kp).  
> Last but definitely not least, thank you all SO MUCH for the love/kudos/comments/subscriptions. We are amazed by by all your support!  
> xoxo,  
> J & P

Stiles groans, stuffing his mouth full of enchiladas, a Mama McCall specialty, completely ignoring the look of disgust Jackson sends his way. Scott had made them, so they weren’t the best he’d eaten (that compliment would go to Melissa, and Melissa alone) but they were still a damn good upgrade from ramen and protein bars.

Especially since he managed to eat all the leftovers from Thanksgiving in about four days.

It’s another pack dinner night, something Scott came up with during their first year in New York. You know, since him, Scott, and Lydia barely ever had time to see each other back in those days. They decided to keep the tradition going after they found themselves with a lot more free time, and after Lydia found Jackson, Scott found Kira, and Stiles found himself without enough money to be able to afford to feed himself seven days a week.

So, to no one’s surprise, Stiles takes that chance to eat as much as he can, not caring if he gets grease on his fingers or sauce stains on his shirt or crumbs around the corners of his mouth.

The only one bothered by his lack of manners is Jackson, mostly because Lydia and Scott have been around him since he was sixteen and have kind of been desensitized to his eating habits.

Dawn doesn’t seem to care, though, happily gurgling and waving her chubby little hands in Stiles’ direction, her own face smeared with food. _Baby_ food, but still food.

Stiles blows her a kiss.

Dawn squeals.

And Jackson wrinkles his nose even more and says, “You’re disgusting, Stilinski.”

“You’ve also been suspiciously quiet since you came back from doing your first interview at the surrogacy agency,” Lydia points out, narrowing her eyes at him. “Which means something must have happened.”

Stiles avoids her eyes, pursing his lips together and getting more food into his mouth so he doesn’t have to speak.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell them about Derek. It’s just that he’s afraid they’ll think he’s rushing into this whole thing, agreeing to get knocked up by the first person they match him with.

He knows he’s made the right decision to do this with Derek, though, but he doesn’t really know how to tell his friends, his _pack_ , that.

So he pretends to ignore Lydia and keeps eating.

Not that Lydia lets herselfbe ignored for long.

Something Stiles learns when he feels the sharp point of her heels dig into his leg.

“Tell me,” Lydia demands, much like the queen she is.

“Stiles will tells us when he’s ready,” Scott interrupts, knocking their elbows together when Stiles shoots him a grateful look. Only for him to get a glint in his eyes two seconds later and say, “Which should probably be soon, if you already made a decision.”

Stiles grumbles, swallowing the rest of his food. “You guys are horrible friends.”

“We also have your back,” Scott raises an eyebrow at him. “No matter what.”

Stiles bites down at his bottom lip, shifting in his seat, feeling himself growing more and more nervous as the seconds tick by and they stay silent.

“We really do,” Kira says, offering him a sweet smile and reaching an arm behind Scott’s shoulder so she can flick Stiles’ ear. “So stop worrying.”

“Yes,” Jackson huffs. “I can smell your nerves from here.”

Stiles sticks his tongue out at him but feels himself relax, only taking one more bite of his enchiladas and taking a sip of his drink before he starts telling them about meeting Derek, his first impression of him and how ridiculously attractive he is, how he’s an Alpha werewolf and has his own pack, and, more importantly, how he could see during the whole interview how much Derek wants this, wants to have a child.

“So you agreed,” Lydia says what Stiles didn’t, looking like she was expecting something like this to happen.

“I-,” Stiles starts, stops, shrugs. “Yeah, I agreed.”

“But this was only your first meeting with, well, _anyone_ ,” Scott says slowly, frowning. “Why not see if you can find someone better?”

Stiles stops himself shy of saying _because there’s no one better_ , but by the look Scott gives him he knows his best friend hears that anyway.

“I’m good with my choice,” Stiles tells him firmly. “We talked and we liked each other and I felt comfortable around him. So I’m good with my decision to give Derek the baby he wants so much and the chance to continue the Hale line.”

“Wait,” Kira blinks. “Did you just say Hale? As in _Derek_ Hale?”

“Uhm, yes,” Stiles says, kind of afraid of the way Kira’s eyes are sparkling with excitement. “Why?”

“I know him,” Kira grins, like this is no big deal, and nods, “He’s a sweetheart. I approve.”

Scott and Lydia look at her then, curious expressions on their faces. Stiles is glad the spotlight is off him, and also turns to Kira expectantly. He agrees with her thinking he’s a sweetheart, but he also wants to learn as much about Derek as he can.

“ _How_ do you know him?” Scott  finally asks when Kira doesn’t say anything.

“Well, in my mom’s line of work she ended up getting to know most of the major shifter families. The Hales are an old name, an old pack with old blood and with centuries of history before Derek was even born. She's probably met more of Derek's family members than he has, come to think of it.”

Oh yeah, has Stiles mentioned that Kira’s mom is _nine hundred year old kitsune_. How does she even _remember_ all the people she’s come in contact with?

Oh, right. Foxes are supposed to have good memories.

“That still doesn’t explain how _you_ know him,” Jackson says then.

“Oh, well, Mom and his mom worked together on various supernatural related things over the years and when Derek moved to New York we were kind of always meeting up randomly. It helps that we own the largest supernatural bookstore in the area,”Kira explains, and then smiles.“Although, I guess I know him best because he’s kind of addicted to the coffee we make at _The Little Fox Cafe_. He comes by nearly every day.”

And another point in the plus column; anyone who loves coffee is good in Stiles’s book. Also, Stiles had never thought about Derek living somewhere other than New York City. He wonders where he’s from and why he moved and why he chose New York. He makes a note to ask Derek that next time he sees him, and hopefully Derek will actually _answer him_ instead of just _stare_ at him.

Not that Stiles minds Derek’s staring.

He kind of likes it, to be honest.

A _lot_.

Scott looks much calmer than he had earlier, and thatmakes Stiles narrow his eyes at him.

Because Stiles is an _excellent_ judge of character, okay?

Scott should know.

Because Stiles _did_ choose him to be his best friend, and Scott is the _best_.

“I don’t know whether to be offended that you approve now that she does, or be glad that this isn’t an issue anymore,” he grumbles, finally finished with his enchiladas and doing everything in his power to keep from licking the plate.

Scott just levels him with a shit-eating grin. “Kira’s not thinking with her _dick_ , Stiles.”

Stiles sticks his tongue out at Scott as Jackson growls. “Can we refrain from talking about _genitalia_ around the baby, please?” He turns to Lydia. “I will literally buy you a new car, whatever you want, if you find us a new pack. I’m not kidding.”

Scott’s grin turns more genuine then and he winks in Stiles’s direction. “Jackson, you’re _lying_! You _love us_!”

Stiles will forever find glee in the way Jackson gets embarrassed whenever someone calls him out on his feelings. He suspects the only person who Jackson's affectionate towards without caring about how he looks while doing it is Dawn.

“You know,” Lydia says, a calculating look on her face. “Kira knowing him already certainly facilitates things.”

Stiles’ stomach drops.

He doesn’t like that the sound of that.

“What kind of things?”

“Derek meeting us, of course,” Lydia tells him, like she’s disappointed he didn’t think of that first.

Stiles wrinkles his nose. “Why would Derek meet you? I don’t remember you cosying up to Danny’s friends when he was pregnant.”

“That’s because Danny’s friends are all humans,” Lydia says, like that should mean something to him. “Derek’s the Alpha of a werewolf pack. You’re part of a pack yourself, and if you think you’re not gonna see us during the entirety of your pregnancy, you’re wrong.”

“I still don’t see why meeting him is important,” Stiles mumbles, looking around his friends for support.

Jackson ignores him, too distracted by Dawn trying to stick her whole fist into her mouth to bother much about the conversation going on around him.

And Scott and Kira are kind of looking at him like they expected better, as if Stiles should be aware of supernatural creature dynamics and not be asking for clarifications.

Stiles might be the research guy, but that still doesn’t mean he knows everything.

Lydia sighs, as if disappointed. “You’ve been in this life long enough to know that sometimes tensions can arise when two strange packs meet; the whole battling of instincts, Alpha posturing, and encroaching in their respective territories. That wouldn’t be a good thing considering your situation. So extending an invitation to Derek to come to us or showing we’d be willing to come to him would do a lot to smooth things over for both packs involved.”

Stiles bites down on his bottom lip, thinking she has a point.

Because as cool as Scott is with all of this Alpha stuff, certain things about werewolf customs still make his hackles rise. And having one of his pack get himself in a situation where he could possibly be courted by another Alpha and invited to join their pack is one of those things.

So Stiles sighs, scrubs a hand over his face, and says, “I promise I’ll talk to him about it.”

“Good,” Lydia nods, satisfied.

Stiles gives her a weak smile, turning to Scott when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks,” Scott says quietly, and that more than anything makes Stiles decide to _insist_ on Derek meeting his pack.

He knows it must not be an easy thing for Scott to have a member of this pack in a situation like this, and the fact that he hasn’t done anything but show his support means a lot.

“No problem, buddy,” Stiles knocks their knees together, and then promptly changes the subject to something lighter. “So what’s for dessert?”

“I swear, you’re like a bottomless pit,” Jackson huffs, only then to look down at Dawn. “Isn’t he, sweetheart? _Yes, he is_.”

Dawn gurgles happily in return, taking her now-covered-in-spit hand out of her mouth and smacking it flat on Jackson’s cheek.

Stiles laughs.

And gets up just so he can press a kiss to the top of Dawn’s head. “Thanks for defending me, Dawn.”

Before Jackson can kick him back and before Scott can tell him what kind of dessert he asked Kira to make for tonight, his phone rings.

“Rules,” Scott reminds him, giving him a pointed look.

Stiles winces.

They’ve had a ‘no phones allowed’ rule since they first started with pack dinner nights, to avoid getting calls that’d lead to them having to leave early or skip dinners all together.

Scott’s always been pretty big at having them all spend time together sans outside interruptions, so to have Stiles leave his phone on is kind of a big deal.

“Sorry, bro,” Stiles apologizes. “I’ve been expecting a call from TOL, though, so I thought I’d leave it on.”

Scott sighs, long suffering. “You’re forgiven. But just this once.”

Stiles blows him a kiss, getting up and stepping into one of the guest bedrooms as he answers the call.

“This is Stiles.”

“Stiles, hi,” says a warm voice from the other end. “This is Marin from TOL. We have received the results from both your and Mr. Hale’s doctors visits and everything seems to be in order.”

Stiles blows out a breath that he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He doesn’t know if it’s strange, but he feels an odd sense of relief at that.

 _That_ being the fact that he and Derek are both cleared to _make a baby_. With each other.

“Oh, sweet. That’s good. Right?”

Marin chuckles, “Yes Stiles, that’s good. It means we can set up a second meeting. If you still want one, that is.”

It makes him a little nervous to think about seeing Derek again, but he’s still firm on the decision he made when he first met him. He wants to give Derek this.

So he lets out a slow breath and says, “I do. Yes-that. I still want that.”

“Okay, good. So what’s happening now is that Braeden and I are working with one of the TOL lawyers to draw up a contract for you and Derek to sign. At this next meeting, we will go over the entire thing with the both of you, individually or together, whichever you prefer, and then we’ll give you guys a chance to make any amendments. We will also go over your fees and payment methods.”

“Oh, okay, that sounds fine.”

He definitely trusts Marin to make sure he isn’t screwed over by a contract.

“You and Mr. Hale _do_ have the option of signing at the end of this meeting,” Marin goes on. “Alternatively, if either of you feel like you need more time to go over things individually, with your packs, or with a private lawyer, that is perfectly fine. If that’s the case, we will set up a third meeting after both of you feel ready to sign. If at any point before signing you want to break things off, you may.”

Stiles nods, then realizes he’s one the phone and snorts, rolling his eyes at himself.

“Sounds good to me. Should I set up an appointment right now?”

“We can. One last thing, Stiles. I need you to know that once you and Mr. Hale sign the contract, that’s binding. That’s very important. So if you, or your pack are hesitant before you come to the appointment, let us know so we can set up that third meeting.”

Stiles stops, thinks about Scott and Lydia in the living room and the conversation they just had.

“Okay, yeah. I’ll definitely do that.”

“Great,” Marin says. “How does Tuesday work for you then?”

Stiles squints as he thinks about his work schedule for the week. Not that it really matters.Mr. Yukimura is usually always willing to cover for him if he lets him know well enough in advance. He’s pretty lucky to have gotten such a chill boss.

“Afternoon is better,”he tells her, because even thoughhe doesn’t think he’s working, he does want the option of sleeping in if possible.

“How’s 2pm on Tuesday work for you?”

“Perfect.”

“See you then, Stiles!”

“Later!”

They both hang up and Stiles stares at his phone a second before pocketing it with a slight smile on his face.

* * *

 

“Let me get this straight,” Erica tilts her head to the side, face completely devoid of emotion. “So you’re about to go knock this guy up and then he’s going to live with you for nine months, and then pop a kid out for you?”

Derek rolls his eyes. Leave it to Erica to put it in the simplest possible terms, and  simultaneously make the whole situation sound absolutely ridiculous.

“To put it succinctly, yes,” Derek says, and then adds, “I mean, if he’s okay with living here with me through the pregnancy.”

Boyd, Erica, and Isaac all share a look, and Derek doesn’t need to check any of their pack bonds to know they’re not so sure this is a good idea.

The sharing a living space thing.

Not the having a baby thing.

Derek knows they’re good—more than—with that part.

“Derek, are you sure this is a good idea?” Isaac asks him, worried. “Have you even thought this through?”

Derek doesn’t do what he wants to—huff at Isaac and tell him that _yes_ , of course he’s thought this through.

He understands it’s a big deal to let someone else into their den, for any kind of pack but especially for them. Because he remembers what a complete fucking mess they were when they started out.

Isaac was the first one of Derek’s Betas.

He remembers sitting in the coffee shop not long after Laura’s death with various course catalogues and brochures for NYU, trying to make a decision about his life. He knew there was no way he was going to go back to California—to Lake Tahoe—after everything that had happened so he figured that he could commit to a four year university. It would give him something to do, something to occupy his time so he wouldn’t spend all his time consumed by thoughts of his family and revenge and _guilt_.

Isaac had come in then, barely seventeen, reeking of fear and pain and walking with a bit of a limp. Derek could smell dried blood and see a hint of a bruise peeking out from under his sleeve.

Even the human barista had noticed something was not quite right with Isaac, asking him if he was okay and if he needed some ice or somthing. Isaac’s fear spiked up to outright _terror_ at that and the boy had mumbled something about a sports injury (a lie) before grabbing his coffee and some muffins and practically _sprinting_ out the door.

This continued to happen every now and then, Isaac coming in when Derek was there and the boy always had some sort of injury or another. He was fine as long as no one tried to talk to him, but the moment someone tried to help him out in anyway, his pulse _skyrocketed_.

After about the third time this happened (over the course of about two months), Derek decided to follow Isaac from a distance, curious to see where he was going and what he was going home to.

Derek ended up following him to a fairly run down apartment building a couple blocks away, going so far as to follow Isaac up a couple flights of stairs. He knew this was weird and he was basically _stalking_ this high school kid, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, that this kid needed someone to look out for him.

He blamed his actions on his new found Alpha powers, wondering if Laura ever felt this need to take care of other people, or if having Derek as her Beta somehow damped those instincts.

He’s glad he did it, though, because that’s what made it possible for him to help Isaac.

Turns out, Isaac’s father had been physically abusing him, and _regularly_ , nearly every day. Even more than that, he’d been locking Isaac in a freezer when he did something “wrong”; sometimes for up to four or five hours.

That’s what he did to Isaac that day, locked him away before he left, leaving his son trapped and scared and alone.

Derek remembers racing down the hallway and breaking down the Lahey doorknowing he had to get to him as fast as he could. Calling the police never crossed his mind, something later Isaac told him he was grateful for. Back then Isaac didn’t want anyone to know what was going on with his father, and having Derek offer him a means to never let that happen again and promising to keep his mouth shut about it went a long way to making Isaac agreeing to let Derek help him.

The fact that he also never imposed his will, expected anything of him, or treated Isaac any different just because he was an omega also played a huge part in that.

The selling point, though, was Derek taking a deep breath, leveling Isaac with a sympathetic look and telling him that “I know what it’s like being betrayed by someone you love, too.”

Years later, Isaac tells him that it was _that_ moment that he realized his life was going to change forever, and change for the _better._

Isaac had moved in with him a couple weeks later, after Derek had helped him get emancipated and get a job at the Yukimura’s coffeeshop. Isaac’s father didn’t put up much of a fight. Not after seeing Derek’s size and a flash of red eyes and teeth that were just a little _too_ sharp.

He hadn’t bitten Isaac till he was eighteen though, after having a long conversation with him and explaining all the pros and con and knowing for certain Isaac was sure of his decision.

He knows that Isaac (and the rest of the pack) see his place as a safe haven for _pack only_ and that it’s only normal that they’d be wary of someone new in that space. Especially because Erica and Boyd, although not coming from a place as hard as Isaac, also didn’t have the best luck when it came to family.

Derek’s home was one of the first places where they all knew they’d be _safe_ , so to let someone who’s _not pack_ into their den is something major.

So yes, he’s thought about this.

He’s thought about this _at length_.

Because as much as he wants to start a family, he knows pack comes first.

He chooses his words carefully when he answers. “If everything goes the way its supposed to,” he exhales, “If it goes the way I _want_ it to, then Stiles is going to be pregnant. With _my_ cub. At that point, he’s not going to feel like an outsider. He’s going to be carrying a _pack_ cub, and with that, is going to feel like pack himself.”

Isaac nods slowly, considering that.

“It’s been a while since you last lived with someone, though,” Boyd points out, which is a valid argument.

It’s been about four years since the Betas packed up and moved out, still somewhere close to Derek’s but to their _own_ apartments.

Learning to share a space with someone after such a long time—especially someone he doesn’t know that well and who’s going to be _pregnant_ on top of it—will be a challenge, but he thinks he’s up for it.

You know, considering he did used to live with these three before.

“I think I can manage after having all of you living under my roof at the same time,” Derek tells him, lips quirking up.

“We were _great_ roommates,” Erica sniffs.

“Sure you were,” Derek mutters, smiling when she sticks her tongue out at him.

“You know we’re here for you,” Boyd says, placing a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “It might be a little strange to have someone living here with you at first, but we’ll be okay.”

“Yes,” Erica nods, leaning against Boyd’s side. “It might take us until we get to know this guy a little better, but everything will work out.”

Derek’s face pales at that.

“Oh,” Isaac says, and then grins. “You didn’t think _that_ one through, did you?”

“Like we wouldn’t want to—,” Erica huffs, and then corrects herself. “Like we’re _not_ going to meet him? Because we are, Derek. We’re most definitely meeting the father of your future child. I don’t care what you have to say about it.”

“I’m the Alpha,” Derek protests, weakly, using the excuse he used to for everything back when they first started out as a pack.

Boyd, Erica, and Isaac all roll their eyes at him.

Boyd even goes as far as shaking his head at him, disappointed. “Seriously, Derek.”

“We’ll talk more about this later,” Derek says, ducking his head and ignoring the looks they send his way. “Or I’m going to be late for the meeting at TOL.”

“You bet we’re going to talk about this later,” Erica threatens, but still gets up to give him a hug and kiss his cheek. “Good luck out there today.”

Derek thanks her and lets her go, waving goodbye to both Isaac and Boyd before he heads out.

When Derek gets to TOL about forty minutes later, Greenberg waves him through the door and tells him to head to the same conference room he was in last time.

Once he gets there, Braeden, Morell and Stiles are all seated already and Stiles sends Derek a huge grin. Derek absolutely does _not_ preen under the attention.

He breathes in then, comforted by Stiles’s already familiar scent (infused with the barest hint of cinnamon), Braeden and Morrell’s combined powerful, earthy scent, and then realizes that there is a fifth person in the room. He’s a human, wearing a stiff, starched suit, all straight lines with a pale green skinny tie to complete the ensemble. It looks like something Laura would have tried to dress _him_ in.

The only thing that Derek can think of him being is a lawyer, but he looks too young. Derek would like a fully grown _adult_ handling his business, thank you very much. He knows better than to say anything, though. He’s aware of how _he_ also looks, and how some people don’t give his work enough credit because of it when he’s one of the best in the business.

He takes a seat in between Braeden and Stiles and once everyone’s comfortable, Braeden introduces the new man. “Derek, Stiles this is Mr. Ross. He works for a law firm right here in New York and does a lot of pro-bono work for our company. He comes _highly_ recommended, and we are very lucky to have him. He’s the one that drew up the documents in front of you.”

Derek looks down then, at the fairly large packet of documents on the table and is suddenly a little overwhelmed again.

Because those are _legal binding documents_ that will pretty much guarantee he’ll be a father at the end of all of this.

Before he can say anything or express any sort of trepidation, he feels a hand squeeze his shoulder. He follows the long lean fingers and then follows  the arm up to Stiles’s shoulders and then his face, and when their eyes meet, Stiles winks at him.

It really shouldn’t calm him down as much as it does.

Neither that nor the way Stiles’ scent turns cinnamon sweet when Derek sends him a grateful smile.

Marin gives them a brief summary of their test results, saying that everything is clear, but ~~that~~ if they want to talk about anything in more detail, they can meet up with the agency doctor at any time.

Derek doesn’t really care to do that and by the way Stiles just waves Marin off, it’s obvious he’s fine doing the same. They both know they’re clean and healthy, and that’s enough.

They go over the first few pages of the document fairly quickly, since it’s all basic introduction things that they’ve all already gone through.

They stop however, when they get to the part about Surrogate Residency. Derek realizes that while he assumed Stiles would live with him during the duration of the pregnancy, Stiles is _not_ obligated to, and that this is a conversation they need to have.

Like, right now.

Stiles must realize the same thing, if the way his heartbeat stutters when they stop is any indication.

Derek doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad reaction to the idea of living with him, but he’s aware he needs to put that option on the table when it’s something he really wants to happen.

So for once he doesn’t hesitate to open his mouth and say, “I’d like you to come live with me for the duration of the pregnancy, if that’s okay.”

Stiles blinks at him and his entire body, for some reason, slumps in relief.

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, lips forming a grin. “Yes, I’d be okay with that. I was actually kind of expecting it, since I know how _over_ protective ‘wolf parents can be. So yeah, I’m cool with it.”

It’s Derek’s turn to relax completely into his seat, his wolf settling at knowing he’ll have Stiles and his cub near him until he or she is born.

“Thanks,” Derek says quietly, touching Stiles’ arm with the tip of his fingers.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Stiles says, still smiling. “I’m known to be a _horrible_ roommate.”

Derek huffs out a laugh, doubting he’ll have a problem with Stiles sharing an apartment with him.

“Great, so since the two of you are in agreement, we can go ahead and check that option on each of your contracts.Have you talked about living expenses?”

Derek notices the way Stiles seems to clamp up at that, his scent turningacridand nervous.

Derek doesn’t like them.

But before he can say anything Braeden shoots them a look, and turns to Stiles. “When this kind of arrangement is made, the parent usually will not only be providing you with accommodation for the duration of the pregnancy, but will also be covering all the related medical costs, and everything you and the baby might need during that time. This includes our fees, baby clothes, maternity clothes, the doctor’s visits, prenatal vitamins as well as the cost of the hospital stay during the birth. Furthermore, after the birth of baby Hale, Derek will pay you a sum of twenty thousand dollars for your surrogacy services.”

Derek watches, fascinated, as Stiles’ eyes widen the longer Braeden keeps talking, his pink mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ of surprise as he look from her and back to Derek.

“And you’re okay with that?” Stiles asks, throat working as he swallows.

Derek kind of wants to laugh at that.

Because Stiles will be giving him a _child_ , and if Derek could, he’d give him the entire world in thanks.

He doesn’t say that, though, just offers him a small smile and says, with as much conviction as he can, “I am.”

* * *

 

Stiles must have heard that wrong.

Because _twenty thousand dollars_ is an insane amount of money.

An insane amount of money Derek is in possession of and offering it to him like it’s _nothing_.

Which means Derek’s probably _filthy rich_.

And that’s—

Stiles doesn’t really know what to do with that.

He knows from Marin and from Derek himself that Derek is a pretty successful architect, but Stiles honestly had no idea he had that much money to his name. How much do architects even make?

And it’s money he’s going to be spending on Stiles if the pregnancy takes.

Derek doesn’t seem put off by any of that at all, though, if the small smile he’s wearing is any indication.

And Stiles?

Who’s he to say no to _that_?

Especially considering this is pretty much the entire reason why he decided to become a surrogate in the first place.

You know, aside from gift someone with a little bundle of joy.

So he lets out a slow breath and says, “If you- If that’s not a problem for you, then I’m okay with it.”

“It’s not,” Derek reassures him, and then hesitates before speaking again. “I want- Taking care and providing for the person having my cub is a pretty big part of all of this, at least for me. So it’s no problem at all. You’d be doing me a favor actually. It’s been awhile since I’ve lived with anyone and it would probably good practice if I’m going to have a kid.”

Stiles has to press his lips together at that, because Derek looks so _earnest_ at the thought of having Stiles living with him it’s kind of ridiculous.

Or just ridiculously adorable.

Stiles kind of wants to kiss him, either way.Something, he thinks suddenly with a thrill, _he might actually be able to do_. And _soon_.

There’s still something about that arrangement he should probably mention, though.

“There’s only one thing,” Stiles says, worrying on his bottom lip.

“Yes?” Derek frowns, turning his entire body to Stiles, attention all of him.

“You know I’m part of a pack,” Stiles says, thinking back to the conversation he had with Lydia. “I need to be able to see them during the pregnancy, and I want to know how that would work when I’m living with you.”

Derek seems to relax at that question, something Stiles wasn’t really expecting from an Alpha but is pleasantly surprised to see it happen.

“I’d like to meet your Alpha, if that’s okay,” Derek says. “I know how importantpackis, and I’d neverkeep you from them. But I’d like to know a little bit more about your packmates, and some warning before any of them came to the apartment would be nice. Just like I’ll let you know whenever one of my Betas will be stopping by.”

Stiles can’t help but grin at that, because having Derek take the initiative to want to meet Scott before Stiles can suggest it is going to go over as a _huge_ bonus point with his friends. Especially Lydia.

“I can definitely give you a heads up before they come over,” Stiles nods. “And Lydia? Well, she’s part of the pack, a Banshee, and she actually suggested you meet us. The rest of the pack, I mean. So you meeting Scott is definitely something that can happen. Scott is the Alpha, by the way. A True Alpha.We’re not really sure _how_ that happened, just that all of sudden, _bam_! Red eyes!And there’s also a Beta ‘wolf named Jackson, Jackson and Lydia’s daughter, Dawn, a few humans who are not official pack but hang around sometimes, and a Kitsune named Kira.”

Derek blinks at that, obviously surprised at something.

Stiles figures is at how _strange_ their pack actually is, untraditional, with space not only for humans and werewolves but also other supernaturals. It’s something the pack faced in the past, narrowed minded people thinking that was not how pack was supposed to work, and he hopes to fuck that Derek is not like them. They’ve definitely had packs in the past think that, because they only had two actual ‘wolves, they’d be easily dominated.

Not that he needs to hope for very long, because the one thing Derek latches on to is, “Did you say _Kira_?”

“Oh,” Stiles startles, and then smiles big. “Yeah! Kira Yukimura. She told me she knew you from the coffee shop? Anyways, she and Scott have been dating for about three or four years now, I think. She’s definitely pack.”

It kind ofsurprises Derekthat out of all the packs in New York City, he would find a surrogate who is the packmate of one of the few people he’s comfortable calling a friend. Then again, all he’s had is shitty luck in the past, so it’s about time that changed for him.

He has to say, though, that he now feels a lot better about this whole thing. Because he knows Kira, and he’s heard her talk _a lot_ about her boyfriend and her friends, and to find out they are Stiles’ pack makes him relax a little.

“I’ve definitely heard about all of you before then,” Derek says finally, tone light. “l look forward to meeting more of your pack.”

Marin looks between them then. “Okay boys, since that’s settled, let’s move on? The next page deals with fertilization. Now the both of you have marked down both the heat sex and IVF option as possibilities. Do you two think you’re read to make a decision one way or another?”

Derek hesitates. He _really_ wants to forget that IVF was ever an option because _everything_ about Stiles does it for him. He looks up at Stiles then and is pleased to see lightly flushed cheeks and blown pupils and a stuttering, excited heartbeat. It’s his scent, though, cinnamon sweet, practically rolling off of him in waves that tells him Stiles must agree with him.

He doesn’t take his eyes off of Stiles at all as he speaks, “Uh, not to be presumptuous, but I’dlike to go with the heat sex option. If that’s okay withyou, that is.”

“That is. Okay with me. Yep, totally works for me,” Stiles says finally, almost in one breath.

* * *

 

Derek kind of zones out while Ross guides them through signatures and initialing the contract, thinking instead about how it’s actually been _years_ since he’s had sex and that he’s _never_ had sex with an omega, heat week or not. He’s suddenly nervous at the idea of taking control during sex because K- _she-who-must-not-be-named_ had been an alpha as well, and much more of a dominant personality than he was. He knows from the literature that towards the middle of heat week omegas can be pretty out of it, and he has _no_ frame of reference for something like that.

Before Stiles’s heat starts, Derek will definitely need to have a chat with Stiles (privately) about what’s okay with him during heat week and what he’s comfortable with. He doesn’t want to screw this up in _any_ way.He’s actually equal parts terrified and excited at the thought of helping Stiles through his heat week. All the images and scenarios running through his head are actually making him a little _lightheaded_.

He has to snap back to attention when Braeden speaks up, eyes on both him and Stiles. “One thing we offer couples who decide on the heat sex option are heat rooms. They are your standard locked rooms, soundproof and insulated, and furthermore will keep in any, ah, _scents_.”

Derek thinks he might have physically recoiled atthe words _heat room_ (probably a good thing, because he thinks he’d be blushing like mad if he focused on the _scent_ part of things), because he feels Stiles’s hand on his arm again, rubbing soothingly.He kind of leans into it a little, turning to Stiles and seeing understanding on his face.

“I don’t really like the idea of using an agency room. At _all_ ,” Derek admits, hoping Stiles won’t take that as a bad thing. He sighs and elaborates, though. “They don’t—don’t _smell_ right.”

Stiles snorts but nods. “I get that. Scott and I had to look at apartments that not only were big enough, and in our price range, but ones that _smelled right_. I don’t reallyunderstandwhere you’re coming from, but I know what werewolves are like. Don’t worry about it.”

Derek nods, relieved, and decides to just come out and say what he really wants to happen.“Do you think you would be okay with moving in with me during your heat week? You would have your own room and you could move in a couple days early, and just stay with me for the duration?”

Stiles nods, squeezing Derek’s arm one more time before removing his hand from Derek’s arm. He mourns the loss for a moment, before registering that Stiles is talking.

“That works for me. My next heat is going to be early next year, around the second week of January? So we have about a month before any, ah, _fertilization_ can occur.”

Derek really likes the way Stiles blushes, just under the apples of his cheeks, and wonders how far down he can make that blush go.

Before Derek can say anything however, Marin speaks up, “So boys, we can just go ahead and make this all official by signing these last couple sheets. They basically just say that Braeden and I have gone through everything with you and that you understand how the process works.”

Stiles and Derek read everything over and sign where she tells them to, and once it’s all filled out, Mr. Ross excuses himself to go make copies. He assures them that they’ll receive copies of the contract via messenger within the next two days.

It’s then Derek realizes that, _this is real_ , this is really going to happen, he and Stiles are going to make a _baby_. A _Hale_ baby. Not only in name but also in flesh and blood.

Derek’s excited.

And kind of terrified.

And also possibly a little nauseous.

Because this means he’ll be having sex with Stiles to get him pregnant.

So he can have a child.

Oh _god_.

* * *

 

Stiles is glad he’s going to have some time until his heat week arrives, knowing he’ll need that time to put everything in order and prepare himself for what’s going to happen.

Starting by telling his dad about Derek.

He’s not really excited for that part.

Mainly because he doesn’t think he can stop his dad from running a background check on Derek from the other end of the country.

And, well, he knows Marin and TOL in general did that already, but, it seems so much more invasive when it’s his dad.

He also doesn’t want to hear about how he should have maybe waited to meet _other people_ before accepting to do this with the first person Marin matched him with. He can almost hear his dad’s voice telling him to consider his options and not to settle for the first person he meets.

But he is excited about the prospect of having sex with Derek.

And kind of terrified.

And also possibly a little nauseous.

Because this means he’ll be having sex with Derek to get pregnant.

So he can have Derek’s child.

Oh god.

He and Derek walk out together, bundled up in their coats and scarves, with him going as far as putting on a beanie.

He gets cold easily, okay?

As Stiles watches tips of Derek’s ears and nose turn a deep pink color once they're outside, he realizes with a jolt that they still _barely_ know each other and Stiles isn’t sure that the next time they meet should be his heat week.

Because as his mind goes back to thinking about the fact that he’s going to have Derek’s _child_ , what are they going to do over the course of the next month?

He doesn’t feel comfortable with the idea of only seeing Derek a month from now, during Stiles’ heat week, when they’re supposed to have sex.

That doesn’t seem right to him.

And that’s when his mind starts spinning with ideas.

Maybe they can meet up? Just once a week or once every two weeks, just to keep contact happening?

Stiles isn’t really sure what to do, or how to bring this up to Derek.He can’t stop thinking about how in a _month_ he’s going to have sex with Derek, and at the end of his heat week will more likely than not, be _pregnant_ with Derek’s child.

Doing that without getting to know him a bit first doesn’t seem right at all.

Derek must notice something’s on his mind—or he must use his sense to pick up on the fast beat of Stiles’ heart and the scent of sweat gathering at his forehead—, because he stops, hand going to Stiles’ shoulder.

“Everything okay?” Derek asks with a frown.

“I think we should meet,” Stiles blurts out, because that’s what happens when he doesn’t know how to say something.

His mouth just runs ahead and does it for him.

Derek tilts his head to the side, frown deepening. “Meet?”

“I mean,” Stiles waves his hands in front of him. “Like, maybe I could get your number? And you could get mine? And we could see each other a few times until my heat week is supposed to start? Just so we can get to know each other a little bit more and get more comfortable around each other and not die of awkwardness once we actually need to, you know, start with the baby-making.”

Derek wrinkles his nose adorably at Stiles’ choice of words, but doesn’t seem that annoyed by Stiles’ suggestion.

“That sounds like a good idea,” he says then. “We actually have the benefit of being in the same place a few times a week.”

Stiles beams, grabbing his phone from his pocket and watching as Derek does the same. “Right, the coffee shop! According to Kira, you’re a fan.”

Derek nods, punching in Stiles’ number and sending him a quick text. “So maybe we can meet there once a week until you move in? How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” Stiles says, meaning it a little more than he should. “That sounds perfect.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update: May 30th, around 5pm EST.


	4. Buckle up, baby, it’s a bumpy ride.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They grab a table in the corner by a large wall of windows and sit across from each other, Stiles claiming the comfier booth seat while Derek sits in the boring metal chair across from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for your continued comments/kudos/subscriptions. Chapter title from [Born to Be My Baby by Bon Jovi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ahf2B_eZUc4&feature=kp),  
> And here’s the [Settle Down 'Verse Orientation Breakdown](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/sdch) in case you need it. 
> 
> xoxo,
> 
> J & P

Stiles is glad he’s already at the bookstore and doesn’t have to actually _walk_ to the coffee shop for his meeting with Derek, because it’s _cold as fuck_ outside. He’s really feeling the love for Mrs. Yukimura and the layout of the shops because there are entrances to both the bookshop and the cafe from the sidewalk, but there’s also a set of doors connecting the bookstore to the cafe.

Which means Stiles can keep an eye on who’s coming in and out of the coffee shop between helping customers and shelving books, his stomach flipping whenever he sees someone with broad shoulders, dark stubble, or intense eyebrows.

Not that Derek is late to meet him, it’s just that Stiles is kind of nervous. You know, since he doesn’t really know what to expect of seeing Derek in a place that’s not TOL and where they’re not making life decisions together.

He checks the time on his phone, seeing it’s ten minutes until he and Derek are supposed to meet and the two text messages wishing him good luck—one from Lydia and one from Scott.

Stiles makes his way to where Mr. Yukimura is managing the cash register as he texts them back, only stopping at one of the computers at the checkout desk so he can clock out.

“Hey, Mr. Y. I finished shelving the new arrivals and I’ve got a meeting next door for about an hour. I mentioned it to Mrs. Y this morning when I came in? That’s cool, right?”

Stiles barely gets a nod in reply, just a hand flap he interprets as ‘go ahead’.

He heads over to the cafe, unsure whether he should go ahead and order or wait until Derek gets there. Luckily, Derek’s already in line when h ~~e~~ pushes the connecting doors open and steps inside.

He goes over to join him, ignoring the way his throat dries and his heart tugs as he takes in the dark grey peacoat and olive green scarf Derek’s wearing. They bring out his eyes _really_ well, and Stiles can’t help but think it would be a shame if future baby Hale got his boring brown eyes over Derek’s gorgeous green ones.

Maybe genetics won’t be that cruel.

Stiles nudges his shoulder against Derek’s as he joins him in line,biting back a smile at the way Derek startles and jumps in place. He wonders if the reason Derek didn’t hear or smell him coming is because he tends to lower his senses whenever he’s in a crowded place,or if it’sbecause he’s just as nervous as Stiles about this whole thing.

“Hi,” Stiles grins apologetically. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. Do you know what you want?” Derek says, somewhat tersely, and Stiles is suddenly afraid he messed something up.

“Uh, I usually get a peppermint mocha this time of year? You know, to take advantage of the festive flavors and all.”

Derek nods, and steps up the the register and orders a large peppermint mocha and a large cinnamon latte, and Stiles reaches for his wallet before he realizes that Derek’s not turning to him for his share of the money.

The total is around six bucks but Derek just hands the barista a ten and then turns around, motioning for Stiles to go ahead of him so they can take a seat.

He’s a little awed because he doesn’t remember the last time he tipped at a coffee shop, not to mention he’s _never_ tipped more than fifty percent. Now he _really_ wants to know how much Derek makes.

Okay, that’s a lie. He totally wants to know how much money Derek makes, but he doesn’t think Derek will appreciate if he asks.

They grab a table in the corner by a large wall of windows and sit across from each other, Stiles claiming the comfier booth seat while Derek sits in the boring metal chair across from it.

They sort of stare awkwardly at each other for a couple moments, before one of the baristas comes by with their drinks. Stiles takes a couple sips right away even though it’s just a touch too hot and nearly burns his tongue just so he has something to _do_ with himself.

When that doesn’t seem to work to make Derek start talking, Stiles takes a deep breath and takes it upon himself to get things going. Because if there’s one thing he can do well is fill any awkward silence with some awkward babbling of his own.

So he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. “So, Kira says you’re a sweetheart.”

Derek chokes on his drink, which is not a nice reaction.

But then he also blushes, from the tips of his ears to his cheeks and down his neck, which _is_ a nice reaction.

At least from where Stiles is sitting.

“She says—,” Derek stops, coughs once, looks at anywhere but Stiles. “I’m not— I don’t know what to say to that.”

Stiles bites back the urge to say _you don’t know what to say about anything_ and just shrugs his shoulders instead. “She seems to like you a lot.”

To his surprise, Derek actually makes a comment then, instead of just sitting there and staring. “Her parents helped me a lot when I moved out here and started school. She’s probably the only friend I have outside of my pack.”

Stiles widens his eyes and that’s one of his questions answered—Derek moved to the Big Apple for school. He wonders where from. He also wonders what it says about Derek as a person that he only has his three Betas and Kira as friends.

Stiles doesn’t really know if he wants an answer to _that_ question.

So he smiles softly and says, “Yeah, the Yukimura's are awesome. They gave me a job when I was struggling with my student loans actually. Working at the bookstore is not always the most interesting, but I have met a couple cool creatures and read some really interesting mythologies from around the world.”

Derek nods. “They’ve got one of the best collections of Bestiaries and Grimoires in the country.”

Now it’s Stiles’s turn to nod, and he does so a little over-enthusiastically. “We actually didn’t realize what Lydia was until the Yukimuras and their ‘special’ library. We knew she was _something_ ; we just didn’t know what.”

“The Banshee?” Derek asks with a frown, as if trying to remember.

“That’s her,” Stiles says. “Turns out getting bit by a feral Alpha werewolf unleashes repressed death omen powers? We still don’t completely understand it. Lydia theorized for a bit that traumatic experiences were what made her powers present, but we couldn’t find any concrete information on it. Either that or having being close to death herself.”

Derek looks torn between understanding and worry at that particular piece of information, so Stiles isn’t really surprised when he asks, “Things have calmed down from that, I hope?”

Stiles nods. “Definitely. Aside from the whole feral wolf going on a biting spree and almost killing all of my friends, we haven’t had any problems since we moved here freshman year of college. Luckily things calmed down back where I’m from for our senior year of high school when Scott became a True Alpha and I haven’t been any life or death situations since!”

And that’s true enough, between being the only stationary pack in the area and having access to the Sheriff’s station and its dispatch line, they needed to protect Beacon Hills, protect Scott’s territory. Something they have no reason to do in a city as populated as New York, given how many supernatural beings live there.

Derek looks at him a little incredulously then, and Stiles wonders if he was too blase about his near death situations. Maybe he needs to act a little bit more like he takes these things seriously—which he does, but he’s learned along the way that it’s a lot easier to deal with these kind of things with a smile on his face and a joke at the tip of his tongue than, well, going crazy about it—if he’s going to be carrying Derek’s kid.

After all, he’s going to be _protecting_ said kid for nine months and he can’t exactly come off as someone with no sense of self-preservation.

Which, God, the thought him carrying _Derek’s kid_ makes him wonder about what it will be like _making_ said kid. If Derek’s going to be this stilted and awkward, how are they supposed to get over this enough to sleep together?

Derek just shakes his head at what Stiles says, though, and then shifts a little in his seat, reaching up to untangle his scarf from around his neck and undo the top couple buttons of his peacoat. He lifts the mug to take a sip and makes a soft pleased noise as soon as the liquid hits his tongue and Stiles feels a rush of warmth in his stomach.

Oh yeah, that’s how this is going to happen.

Stiles can always count on his attraction to people to overpower how awkward either of them might feel during sexy times.

He can literally see the bulge of Derek’s bicep _through_ the coat and the way his tongue flicks out to lick a bit of whipped cream off the top of the mug makes any thoughts of _conversation_ fly out the window.

You know, until Derek does that thing where his nose twitches as he’s subtly trying to scent the place and his eyes shoot up in surprise, eyebrows raising to his hairline as he _obviously—_ because _fucking werewolves—_ smells Stiles’s reaction to him.

Then Stiles can’t open his mouth fast enough, his cheeks flushing as words start tumbling out, desperately trying to distract Derek from Stiles’s obvious attraction to him.

He tells Derek a little more about his high school adventures with Lydia and Scott, about how he’s convinced Dawn will grow up to rule the world, about how his dad is the Sheriff back where he used to live and he misses having him close. You know, even though his dad made no qualms about letting Stiles know how he thought this whole surrogacy thing was a bit crazy when Stiles called him to tell him about it.

He talks and talks and talks a bit more, occasionally getting something back from Derek. Like how his three Betas are called Isaac, Erica, and Boyd, how he lives near Central Park because it’s the only place with actual _trees_ in Manhattan and that he grew up in Lake Tahoe, and how this coffee shop is pretty much one of his favorite places in the city. Stiles tells him how he spent many breaks from school in Tahoe with his dad and Scott, snowboarding in the winter and camping in the summer. Derek smiles, and says that he used to go camping with his family _all the time_ , and honestly loved being out in the Tahoe mountains, surrounded by nothing but nature for miles around.

It’s more than what Stiles expected to hear from him, considering they still have some stretches of uncomfortable silence between them from one topic to the next. He suspects it’ll take a while until that goes away, because he has a feeling Derek’s not really that good with being around people, at socializing, at having to hold up a conversation with someone who’s virtually a stranger to him.

Stiles thinks he did a pretty good job at getting Derek to forget all about Stiles lusting after him earlier, because when they get up to leave and Derek holds the door open for him, it’s the least awkward they’ve been with each other so far.

Derek even helps him wrap his scarf around his neck when he accidentally manages to get it tangled with one of the buttons on his coat, lips pressed together as if trying not to laugh.

Stiles would be offended if he wasn’t so flustered instead, simultaneously reveling in the feeling of Derek’s cold fingers brushing against his neck and trying to think of Scott and Jackson naked to keep his scent in check.

He doesn’t think he succeeds.

He’s about to go on another rambling spiral to make Derek forget he ever smelled him when Derek places his hands on Stiles’s shoulders, tugging the lapels of Stiles’s coat tighter around him.

“You good?” Derek asks, as if knowing Stiles is warm enough is something he really cares about.

Stiles remembers how Jackson used to bring Danny cold drinks and ice cream and blast the air conditioner in their apartment when Danny was pregnant with Dawn during the summer, sohe figures it is.

“I’m okay,” Stiles says, ducking his head to try and hide his pleased smile from Derek.

Because even if he’s not your stereotypical omega it sure feels nice having someone taking care of him.

“Good,” Derek nods, and then clear his throat, hands dropping from Stiles’s shoulders to his sides.

“So I’ll see you next week?” Stiles bites down on his bottom lip, sounding a bit more eager than he meant to. “Same place? Same time?”

“Sounds good.”

And then they both do their thing of standing and staring at each other without really saying anything.

That is until Stiles lets out a small laugh, earning a twitch of lips from Derek whose ears turn red.

Stiles wonders if it’s because of the cold or because he’s just as embarrassed about them as Stiles is. He wonders, not for the first time, what scents he’d come across if he had a ‘wolf nose.

“I’ll see you later, then?” Stiles asks, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Yes,” Derek says, taking one step closer to Stiles before stopping. “Is it okay if I-”

Stiles nods, opening his arms and wiggling his fingers in offer.

Derek rolls his eyes but closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Stiles’s waist, nose finding a spot between Stiles’s neck and scarf.

Stiles feels more than hears Derek breathing him in, hoping to all that’s holy Derek won’t smell exactly how much Stiles is enjoying having Derek hug him.

By the way Derek’s nose grazes his cheek and his hands linger on Stiles’s waist when he pulls back, he does.

And by the way Derek’s eyes flicker red and he licks his lips before bidding Stiles goodbye and walking away, he likes that he does.

* * *

 

“No.”

“Derek,” Erica scoffs, pulling on her coat.

“I said _no_.”

Erica rolls her eyes. “Stop flashing your eyes at me. You know that doesn’t work.”

“Erica,” Derek tries again, this time trading his red alpha eyes for a kicked puppy look instead. “Please.”

Erica gives him a long look while she buttons her coat, and then shakes her head. “Yeah, no, that doesn’t work on me either. I’m still coming with you.”

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers, trying to think of what he possibly could have done to be saddled with a Beta with no respect for his authority.

Or possibly, what exactly he was thinking when he chose to bite Erica.

He can’t even pretend to doubt his choice to bite and turn, though. Not with her, never with her.

Because not long after Isaac had moved in with him, he’d come home one day quieter than he’d been since Derek met him, and stayed that way until dinner.

Which is when he started asking about werewolves and terminal illnesses—about whether werewolves got things like Alzheimer’s or cancer, and if they did how did the healing factor work with that.

Derek didn’t really know why he was asking, at least not then, but did his best to tell him everything he knew. Not that he really knew all the answers to Isaac’s questions. He knew that werewolves were immune to things like bacterial infections and viruses, and that they had a much higher life expectancy than humans.

He wasn’t really sure about all the details of cancer or other terminal diseases, because he knew of werewolves who had died from cancer.

When he asked Isaac _why_ he was asking though, he was a little unprepared for the story of a sixteen year old girl in Isaac’s high school who was being made fun of for soiling herself during an epileptic seizure.

And honestly, Derek hadn’t really known whether being a werewolf would even fix any of that, but the minute he’d seen Erica’s determination to follow through and steely resolve, he’d really had no choice but to go through with it.

She reminded him too much of Laura to let her go.

And now here he is, about to go on his second coffee meeting with Stiles, trying to convince her not to tag along.

So far, he hasn’t been successful.

Like he said, determination and steely resolve. It’s nearly ten years later, and he _still_ can’t say no to Erica.

At this point, he doesn’t even know why he _tries_ to anymore.

“Fine,” Derek snaps, glaring when Erica smirks at him. “But I’m not buying you anything to eat.”

He gets to the coffee shop a little early, but still makes sure to order Stiles’s peppermint mocha when he gets his latte, instructing the barista to make them extra hot so they’re still good when Stiles gets there.

He even gets Erica her favorite toffee nut latte with extra whipped cream and ignores the smug, indulgent look on her face when he hands it to her.

He sits in the same spot he had last time, hoping that Stiles will see him there because he currently has his back to the bookstore entrance.

Derek figures that he’s showed up and is headed to their table when Erica goes suddenly still next to him and grabs his arm, her perfectly manicured nails digging into his skin _through_ his coat.She’s practically _vibrating_ with uncontrolled glee.

“Derek, he is _adorable_.”

Derek doesn’t blush at that.

Honestly, he doesn’t.

He also doesn’t preen at knowing Erica approves of who Derek has chosen to be the parent of his child. Well, appearance wise at least.

He _does_ however, turn around slightly, and watches Stiles as he makes his way over to the table. Stiles hair looks even messier than the first time Derek had seen it, and he’s once again overcome by the urge to tangle his fingers in it.

“Hey, am I interrupting something?”Stiles stops short when he sees Erica, fumbles through his pockets and pulls out a very old, very _battered_ flip phone, presumably checking the time. “Should I come back?”

Derek doesn’t like the way Stiles sounds uncertain, the way his scent sours, the way his eyes look everywhere but at Derek himself.

And this is why Derek didn’t want her coming along, because he doesn’t want to do anything that might end up ruining things between him and Stiles.

But before Derek can open his mouth Erica shuffles over in her booth, patting the spot next to her. “Nope, you’re perfect. Come sit down so Auntie Erica can get to know you.”

Stiles sits down slowly, brows furrowed, while Derek wonders faintly if she’s lost her mind.

“Auntie Erica?” Stiles asks then, biting his lip and looking between Derek and Erica, waiting for someone to explain.

“Just ignore anything and everything she has to say,” Derek tells him, sliding Stiles’s drink across the table. “That’s what I do.”

His cheeks flush a bit more at the pleased smile on Stiles’s lips as he takes a sip of his coffee, and glaring at Erica is all he can do when she wiggles her eyebrows at him and grins.

Erica blows him a kiss, but then directs all her attention on Stiles.

“Yes. Auntie Erica,” Erica says. And then as if Stiles needed more explanation, she adds, “Auntie to the little nugget you’ll be carrying soon enough. Erica to you.”

Stiles relaxes a little, slouching down a bit in his seat so that his knees just _barely_ brush against Derek’s.

Derek’s heart doesn’t skip a beat.

It doesn’t.

No matter what Erica and her hearing says.

“You’re one of Derek’s Betas?” Stiles asks, curiosity written all over his face.

“I am,” Erica nods, waving a hand. “The vivacious one, without whom all the boys would be _lost_.”

Stiles grins, and then the smile abruptly falls and he turns to Derek conspiratorily. “She and Lydia can _never_ meet.”

He thinks he nods in response, but all he can really think about is the warmth he feels when Stiles’s leg brushes more firmly against his own.

“You mean Lydia Martin?” Erica raises an eyebrow, blinking innocently when Derek stares at her.

Stiles widens his eyes comically, “Oh no, they know each other! How has the world not imploded already?”

Erica winks at Stiles, completely ignoring the way Derek’s eyebrows are twitching and demanding an explanation.

So Derek has to ask. “ _How_ do you know each other?”

“My partner, Boyd, knows her from work,” Erica tells _Stiles_ , still ignoring Derek, even though he was the one to ask the question. “We just spent the other night with her and her husband at their office Christmas party.

“I never go to those things,” Stiles wrinkles his nose. “Lydia used to invite me back when she and Jackson weren’t married and it was _so boring_.”

“I really only go for the free food and drinks,” Erica says. “And the promise of hot werewolf sex with Boyd after.”

“ _Erica_ ,” Derek hisses, mortified.

Only to be baffled when Stiles throws his head back and _laughs_ , body shaking with mirth and eyes crinkling up adorably at the corners.

“Oh man, you’re definitely a cutie,” Erica smiles, delighted. “Too bad for you I met Boyd first or I might be tempted to steal you away from Derek.”

Derek is not proud to say he barely manages to swallow back a growl at that, surprising and embarrassing himself for having such a strong reaction to the thought of Stiles being with someone else.

Erica notices that, if the way her smile widens is any indication. Which tells Derek she only made that comment to see and make Derek realize how the idea of Stiles not being his bothers him.

Derek really wants to tell himself it’s because they already agreed to have a child together, and not because of some other reason.

He’s very good at lying to himself like that.

Stiles winks at her, moving back towards her and putting an arm around her shoulders. “Sure I can’t convince you now? After I make a baby for Derek here, you and me can ride off into the sunset together.”

Erica smiles, and leans more into Stiles’s side. “No can do, sweets. Someone needs to make sure that the kid doesn’t grow up all growly and frowny like their growly-frowny daddy.”

Stiles doubles over laughing again, and Derek is torn between watching and running away.

He knew Erica coming here wouldn’t end well.

He also knew she would try her best to embarrass him.

What he didn’t know was that Stiles would come to his defense, reaching out a hand and placing it on top of Derek’s on the table, cold fingers sliding under Derek’s coat sleeve and making him shiver.

“He’s not all growly, though,” Stiles says with something Derek likes to think it’s fondness. “Frowny, sure. But he hasn’t growled once since we met. Which is more than I can say about Jackson and Scott whenever Lydia and I take them out.”

“Scott?” Erica asks, eyes cutting to Derek.

“My best friend and Alpha. And someone who will probably invite himself along next time we meet after I tell him about you showing up.”

“ _Uninvited_ ,” Derek adds when Stiles doesn’t.

Erica sticks her tongue out at him.

Stiles rolls his eyes, patting Derek’s hand in what seems to be camaraderie. “Don’t worry man, Scott’s the same way. I wouldn’t be surprised if he and Kira were hiding in a corner somewhere keeping an eye on us..”

Derek feels slightly less awful about bringing Erica along after that, resigning himself to an afternoon filled with Stiles’s laughter and Erica making him blush as many times as she can.

All and all, it’s a good day.

* * *

 

It’s like Stiles jinxed himself the last time by bringing up Scott and Kira, because here they are, _blocking the exit_ , telling him that they will be joining him and Derek on their little date today.

“Do you really _have to_?” Stiles asks, _not_ pouting.

“You know I’m gonna have to meet him sooner or later,” Scott says gently, bumping their shoulders together.

Stiles blows out an annoyed breath. Stupid pack dynamics.

“And I’m just going because I haven’t seen him since before Thanksgiving,” Kira shrugs, smiling a little. “I miss him spending time with him. He’s a good guy.”

“A sweetheart,” Stiles corrects, and then quickly adds when Scott raises an eyebrow at him and Kira grins, “Or so you’ve said.”

“And I stand by it,” Kira winks at him.

“I’m not going to be able to talk you guys out of this, am I?” Stiles says finally, grabbing his coat and motioning towards the door.

“Nope,” Kira and Scott say at the same time, matching grins on their faces.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Stiles sighs, ignoring the high-five Scott and Kira trade just before he steps out of the apartment.

He feels kind of silly reaching the coffee shop with Scott and Kira in tow, especially when he walks in to see Derek sitting at their table in the corner, two steaming mugs already in front of him.

Kira whispers something in Scott’s ear and he obligingly goes to stand in line while Stiles and Kira make their way over to Derek.

Or rather, Stiles makes his way.

Because Kira runs in front of him, to Derek, calling his name and waving a hand and getting her arms around Derek’s shoulders and hugging him tight when he sees her and stands up.

And Derek—

Stiles stops short, because that’s Derek hugging her and smiling _back_ , wide and bright and _beautiful_.

And Stiles thinks he’s never seen him that way, happy about something, careless with his affection and so openly _fond_ of someone.

You know, aside from Erica. Kind of. Because, truth be told, Derek looked more embarrassedand annoyed than happy and fond that day.

It’s kind of breathtaking.

The way Derek’s entire face transforms with a genuine smile,eyes crinkling in the corners and perfect teeth on full display and _damn_ that’s a good look for him. His green eyes look like they’re actually sparkling.

It’s so breathtaking Stiles completely forgets to, you know, _keep walking_ to the table and just stands there, right in the middle of the coffee shop, with his hands limp by his sides and cheeks flushed and eyes round and heartbeat stuttering in his chest.

The only reason he really snaps out of the daze he’s in from seeing _Derek Hale smiling_ is because Scott pushes him. Or kind of knocks their shoulders together and gives Stiles a look that totally says Scott’s on to him.

Stiles still hasn’t completely got himself together before they reach Kira and Derek, and by the way Derek’s eyes go a little dark when he spots the pink tinging Stiles’s face he can obviously tell.

And by the way _Scott_ wrinkles his nose right after he breathes in next to them, he can _also_ tell what’s going on.

Kira just looks between all of them with pure glee on her face, like them all being together at her mom’s coffee shop is the best thing that’s happened to her since Scott gave her a new katana for Christmas.

Nevermind that Christmas was only five days ago.

“Should we sit?” Derek motions his head towards the table, and then he looks around hesitantly before meeting Stiles's (probably still adoring) gaze shyly. “I uh, got you a mocha like you normally get? They didn’t have peppermint though because Christmas is over, but I got a you a plain one? I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, and he does _not_ sound a little breathless. “That’s okay. Thank you.”

He can see Scott out of the corner of his eye, looking at Derek consideringly, _almost_ approvingly, but still managing to come off as the protective Alpha werewolf that he is.

Nevermind that Scott couldn’t actually hurt a fly. Kira’s always complaining that she isn’t allowed to kill the various bugs that find their way into her apartment because Scott insists that would be _cruel_.

Stiles still notices, though, that neither Scott nor Derek make any moves to sit down even after he and Kira made themselves comfortable.

And he knows what’s happening here.

He’s been in a pack long enough—and has been an omega _way_ longer than that—to recognize that Derek ordering Stiles’s drink for him is a sign to how Derek, as not only an alpha but also Alpha werewolf, can and will provide for him when needed.

And, sure, Derek did that last time they were here, but it takes on a different meaning when that gesture is done is front of Stiles’s _Alpha._

Something Stiles knows Scott gets, with the way him and Derek are still looking at each other, assessing, and Stiles can almost feel the waves of power coming off of them the longer they stare at each other.

He’s also trying _really hard_ not to roll his eyes at them.

And judging by the way Kira makes a face at him when he looks at her, she’s right there with him.

“You know,” Stiles says, stopping only to take a sip of his drink. “It’s kind of offensive to me having both of you making eyes at each other like you’re about to start dueling for my hand. I don’t appreciate it, and I know you both know I make my own decisions, thank you very much.”

Scott and Derek look _extremely_ embarrassed at being called out like that, but Stiles's words work to make them relax their postures and nod at each other in a sign of respect before sitting down, Scott right next to Kira and Derek by Stiles's side.

And ~~~~at that Stiles’s heart immediately starts to beat a little harder because he and Derek are pressed together the entire length of their thighs, and it feels _warm_ and _good_ and Stiles might be a little _too_ excited about being so close to Derek.

“So now that that’s out of the way,” Kira starts, smiling widely when Scott ducks his head and Derek’s cheeks flush in embarrassment. “Derek, how was your Christmas?”

Stiles gives Kira a grateful look at starting up conversation, because he knows that if they leave it up to Derek he won’t really say anything. And Scott will just probably not so subtly try to interrogate him on Stiles's behalf, not that Stiles needs Scott to take care of him.

Stiles feels Derek relax a little bit more against his side, and if they weren’t already flushed together, they sure are now as Derek leans back against his seat.

And he’s glad a group of college students come in just then, because from the noise they’re making he knows neither Scott nor Derek are able to hear his heart skipping a beat.

“It was good,” Derek says shyly, eyes going from Kira to Scott and to Stiles like he doesn’t really know where to look. “Isaac, Erica, and Boyd all stayed at the loft with me for a couple days. We did a secret santa thing because of— Isaac insisted. And then we played every drinking game under the moon.” Derek huffs when Stiles snickers at that, because _really_? “Erica couldn’t drink before so now she has this thing where she tries to find the most elaborate drinking games possible and forces us all to play.”

Kira’s eyes light up as she nods excitedly. “So which one was your favorite?”

Stiles and Scott share a look, already knowing the next few pack dinner nights will probably involve _lots_ of drinking. Which Stiles thinks might be a good thing, considering he’ll be pregnant soon and won’t be able to get drunk anymore.

Derek’s cheeks pink considerably at the question, and he clears his throat before answering. “Well, I’m not really a big drinker so I can’t really say I’m too big a fan of any of them.”

“Come on, dude,” Stiles says, nudging Derek’s arm with his own. “There must be at least _one_ that doesn’t make you regret ever meeting Erica.”

The pained look Derek gives him at that makes Stiles and Kira laugh and Scott crack a smile, and after another nudge Derek sighs and answers.

“Ericaand Boyd like the Cards Against Humanity drinking game best because they’ve got a messed up sense of humour. And Isaac likes beer pong,” Derek says, and then shrugs.“I guess I liked flip cup best? We all get really competitive so it’s pretty funny to see our skill levels decrease as we drink more.”

“You don’t like feeling human?” Scott asks, tilting his head to the side.

Kira doesn’t say anything to that, just presses her lips together and busies herself with drinking her coffee.

Stiles figures she knows why Scott is doing this, being _rude_ , and is going to let this all play out without getting in the middle of it.

That still doesn’t stop Stiles from feeling embarrassed for the way they’re acting and sending one of his nastiest glares in their direction.

That also doesn’t stop him from kicking Scott under the table.

But Scott doesn’t even flinch, just keeps staring at Derek unblinking, face blank, waiting for an answer.

And Stiles is about to apologize to Derek for Scott being an overprotective asshole when Derek starts speaking, his voice low but firm.

“My dad was human,” he says, and Stiles doesn’t miss the way he’s using the past tense or the sad look in Kira’s eyes. “Some of my extended family was also human. And there’s no one braver than people who run side by side with wolves. To say they’re less than we are is an insult and untrue.”

Stiles is still glaring daggers at Scott, so he doesn’t miss the way his best friend’s lips twitch up and his entire body relaxes.

Kind of like Derek just passed a test no one but Scott knew he was taking.

“I’m sorry,” Scott says, eyes lowered. “I overstepped. But I do agree with you. Stiles is one of the strongest people I’ve met.”

“Apology accepted,” Derek nods, and then turns to glance at Stiles. “And I don’t doubt it.”

Stiles huffs, cheeks flushing in pleasure.

And that’s when Kira decides to jump in, all smiles again, and says,“Our Christmas was just pack too. Stiles's dad and Scott’s mom came over from California to spend a couple days with us.”

When Stiles looks over at Derek then, he sees a small, almost wistful smile on his face, and is overcome with curiosity.

He can’t help but notice Derek’s mentioned _nothing_ about parents or a family, aside from telling Stiles where he grew up and today’s bit about some of them being human and always using the past tense. And while he’s sure Kira knows what happened there by the sadness in her eyes, he isn’t going to _ask_ for that information. He just hopes that maybe one day Derek will feel comfortable enough to tell him about it.

“Must’ve been nice,” Derek says finally. “To have your family with you.”

That pretty much confirms Stiles's thoughts that Derek doesn’t have a family anymore. Or that if he does, they’re not close.

Stiles nods, trying to give him a reassuring smile.“The only thing I don’t like about New York City is how far away I am from my dad. It was just me and him for so long and now he has Melissa and I have the pack, but yeah.” He blows out a breath. “It’s just _better_ when we’re together.”

“Plus you get to make sure Mom’s keeping up with the Sheriff’s diet, huh?” Scott chimes in then, smirking at Stiles.

Derek turns his head sideways at that, looking at Stiles curiously. It’s amazing how much the move makes him look like a confused puppy.

It’s _adorable_.

Stiles bites back a coo and answers Derek’s unasked question, “Dad had a bad check up a few years back. Guess his cholesterol levels were a bit too high. Much to his displeasure, I put him on a no grease, lean meats and vegetables diet.” He grinned smugly. “Totally worked too, six months later and Dad’s numbers were back in the normal range.”

Scott barks out a laugh at that. “Yeah, and you didn’t go overboard at _all_.”

Stiles almost sticks his tongue out at Scott but refrains when he notices Derek’s opening his mouth to speak.

“I think that’s nice,” he says softly, pinning Stiles under an _intense_ gaze. “You taking care of him. Your dad’s lucky you care so much.”

“We’re all each other have,” Stiles answers quietly. “I have to make sure he sticks around for a long, long time.”

Derek stares at him with understanding and sadness in his eyes, and Stiles doesn’t hesitate to press his leg more firmly against Derek’s thigh, trying to comfort him.

“And someone has to help me keep you out of trouble,” Scott chimes in then, trying to lighten the mood.

Stiles scoffs. “I’m no trouble. I’m a _delight_.”

The look Scott gives him at that is _so dry_ it startles a small laugh from Derek, eyes lit with amusement as he turns to Stiles and asks, “Trouble?”

“Lies and slander, you mean,” Stiles sniffs, warmth blooming in his chest at seeing Derek this way.

Scott just raises an eyebrow at him, the corner of his lips curling up like he’s about to do something Stiles will want to kick him for later.

It’s a look Stiles has been seeing since they were kids, and it’s a look he’s not particularly fond of.

“So, Derek,” he starts, eyes darting between Stiles and Derek, and _crap_ , this is probably not going to end well for Stiles. “Did Stiles ever tell you about the time he tried to help me control my shift?”

Stiles groans. “Scott, did you really have to bring that up?”

“Do I know this story?” Kira asks, excited. “I don’t think I know this story.”

“That’s actually amazing to me,” Stiles grumbles. “I thought Scott had told _everyone_ this story.”

“It _is_ one of my favorite Stiles stories,” Scott says with a grin. “But it’s not everyday I get to tell it. And I think I told Kira about the restraining order story instead of this one.”

Derek makes a choking noise at that, shaking his head and staring at Stiles in disbelief. “ _Restraining_ _order_?”

“You’re regretting your decision to do this with me, aren’t you?” Stiles winces. “I promise I’m not that bad. Well, at least not anymore. And anyway, the restraining order was lifted and the guy married Lydia, so it’s not like we have a problem anymore.”

“He’s part of your pack,” Derek says flatly, eyebrows clinging to his hairline.

“We know it’s kind of weird,” Stiles shrugs one shoulder, and glances at Scott and Kira. “But we’re family.”

Both Kira and Scott smile big at that, nodding in agreement, and Stiles notices Derek’s expression softens.

“Family,” Derek repeats, and Stiles hears the same longing he did back at their first meeting at TOL.

“Yeah,” Stiles gives him a small smile, and then looks back at Scott. “If you want to tell this story, I reserve the right to tell Derek the story of your first lacrosse game at a later date.”

Scott narrows his eyes at him before sighing and saying, “I’ll take it.”

He then proceeds to tell Derek about how Stiles figured out the shift was caused by a raise in the wolf’s heartbeat, and that his brilliant plan to control that was to tie Scott’s hands behind his back and throw lacrosse balls at his face.

Derek looks horrified.

Kira almost chokes on her drink she’s laughing so hard.

And Stiles doesn’t even bother looking apologetic, just shrugs and says, “I was mad at him at the time.”

All in all, it’s a good meeting.

* * *

 

Derek gets to the coffee shop early again for their last meeting, and like last time, buys Stiles a mocha and grabs just a plain coffee for himself. It’s snowing out, something that has never really affected him one way or another thanks to his naturally high body temperature, but can’t help but feel grateful for it when Stiles walks in.

Stiles looks, well, _delicious_.

His ears and cheeks are flushed red from the cold, and even the very tip of his nose is slightly pink. He’s got snowflakes lightly sprinkled in his messy brown hair and on the shoulders of his winter coat, and he looks like someone right out of one of those sappy Christmas movies Erica always makes him watch.

He’s got his hands clasped in front of his face, blowing on them lightly and is hunched over a little, like the thick jacket he’s wearing isn’t warm _enough_.

He looks miserable.

And Derek kind of wants to gather him up in his arms and not let him go until he’s feeling warm again.

Maybe not even then.

“Please tell me you have a hot drink for me,” Stiles pleads as soon as he reaches Derek, sitting across from him and making grabby hands.

Derek just smiles and shakes his head at him, handing Stiles his cup, and swallowing hard at the moan Stiles lets out when he takes the first sip.

“Better?”

“Much,” Stiles breathes out. “I still kind of feel like I’ll never get warm again, though. But I guess you don’t have that problem?”

“Not really,” Derek says, shifting in his seat, and clears his throat before tentatively saying, “You could sit next to me. Instead of- I mean, I run hot. And that could help with the cold.”

He can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks as soon as he gets the words out, but he doesn’t regret saying them.

Part of doing this with Stiles means making him as comfortable as he possibly can, and Derek figures there’s no better time to start than now, with this.

Plus, it’s not like it’s a hardship to have Stiles sit close to him.

And Stiles must think so too because, after looking surprised for the offer for about two seconds, he gets up and sits on the empty chair beside Derek, the blush on his face deepening and his scent turning into something warm and sweet.

Derek knows enough of him by now to know Stiles is pleased and failing at not showing it, which in turn makes Derek want to preen.

A feeling that’s only intensified when Stiles sighs happily, and leans into him a little.

They sit there for a moment, sipping their drinks until Stiles flails suddenly, turning to Derek, “Happy New Year by the way!” He grins sheepishly, “That really should’ve been the first thing I said. The cold distracted me.”

“Happy New Year, Stiles,” he replies, smiling softly at Stiles's enthusiasm. “Don’t worry about it, did you guys do anything special to celebrate?”

Stiles wrinkles his nose adorably, and looks a little guilty. “Well, I guess since I’m getting pregnant soon,” and Derek absolutely does _not_ feel a rush of warmth in his gut at the sound of that. “The guys thought maybe it could be like, one last night of going all out?”

Derek nods and nudges Stiles's shoulder with his own. “Just because I don’t like to drink doesn’t mean I care that other people do. Did you have fun?”

Stiles shrugs, and then looks down as if embarrassed. “I’m sure I did. I don’t really remember all of it? What I _do_ remember is the God-awful hangover I had the next morning. It was _more_ than enough to put me off drinking for about a year.”

“That’s good to hear,” Derek deadpans, giving Stiles a significant look.

“Like I said before,” Stiles returns it with a look of his own, and having Stiles stand up to him should not make Derek this attracted to him. “I’m getting pregnant soon, so no drinks for me. What happened during New Year’s will just make that decision a whole lot easier.”

Stiles finishes the last of his drink and then pouts at the empty mug. “Aw, I finished that too fast.”

Derek shakes his head in amusement, at the very least living with Stiles is never going to be _boring_. “Do you want me to get you another?”

Stiles looks at him with a glint in his eye and a mischievous smirk. “Trust me, you do not want to see me all hopped up on caffeine. I’ll be jumping off the walls if I have another, and I guess this is a good time as any to start cutting back. What I _do_ want, however, is to know what _you_ did for New Year’s.”

“I basically rang in New Year’s with my pack and in my pajamas, low key and quiet.”

Stiles's eyes glaze over for a second and then go dark, the sweet smell of cinnamon following right after, and Derek wonders what exactly he just said to make that happen.

“Just pajamas, huh?” Stiles licks his lips, and _oh,_ that must be it. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to that story?”

He rolls his eyes. “When Erica’s involved there’s _always_ more to the story.”

Stiles beams. “Knew it! Spill, Hale.”

Derek feels himself smiling back, helpless against Stiles's obvious joy at knowing Erica probably convinced him to do something embarrassed or stupid or both. Not that it really happened this time, but still.

“It wasn’t that exciting,” Derek starts, trying not to react to the way Stiles pouts at that. “Erica and Boyd dragged me and Isaac to a party, even though they know we don’t really like them that much. So we left after about thirty minutes and just grabbed some beers and Chinese take-out to take back to the loft. And then Erica and Isaac decided it’d be a good idea to get really drunk, so Boyd and I took turns babysitting them and challenging each other to see who could do more backflips before we got tired.”

Stiles is still pouting, lower lip sticking out temptingly and Derek wonders what kissing Stiles might be like. “You’re right, that _was_ pretty lame. Aside from the backflip thing, but that’s just the two of you trying to show off your wolfy powers.”

Derek tries a grin at that, a _predatory_ one, showing off his perfect teeth, and leans closer to the cinnamon scent wafting off of Stiles. “And then, when the clock struck midnight, we went out on the the balcony and _howled_ at the top of our lungs. I don’t know if we scared any of my neighbors, but the next morning we got a visit from animal control asking if we’d heard any ‘wild dogs’ last night, so.”

Stiles barks out a laugh at that, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Ah, all the dog jokes I could make right now, dude. You have no idea.”

“Try not to, please,” Derek snorts. “I already had to hear them from Erica.”

“A girl after my own heart,” Stiles sighs dreamily, batting his lashes.

Derek swallows, thinking desperately for a way to change the subject before he says something stupid like tell Stiles how much he likes his eyes.

“So-I uh, well, do you need anything specific? For your heat week next week?” Derek asks, and pauses. “Anything I could get you? To make things easier? Or more comfortable for you? Or anything like that?”

Stiles looks surprised at that harsh and not subtle at all change of subject, eyebrows quirking up briefly before his whole faces changes into a soft, open expression.

“Wow. Can’t say I was expecting _that_.”

Derek bristles at that. He _knows_ it’s not personal, that Stiles has probably had contact with asshole alphas in the past, but he _hates_ the thought of of him being treated with anything less than the respect he deserves. And the fact that there’s a chance Derek could be like one of those alphas also doesn’t help.

He bites his bottom lip briefly before replying, “I don’t know how you’ve handled heats in the past, but I know they’re sometimes hard to get through and I want this one to be as comfortable and painless as possible. Anything you need, or even just want, let me know and I’ll make it happen.”

If Derek wasn’t so focused on Stiles’s, well, _everything_ , he wouldn’t have caught the jump on his heartbeat or the way his lips parted or the glint in his eyes that seem as if Stiles can’t quite believe what he’s seeing and hearing.

That makes anger coil tight in Derek’s gut, that Stiles would react with such wonder to someone wanting to help him and considering his needs during his heat. It doesn’t say good things about Stiles's past experiences in having someone see him through heat week, and _that_ makes Derek want to hunt some people down and rip their throats out. With his _teeth_.

“Oh my god, Derek, _stop it_ ,” Stiles hisses, eyes wide, the feeling of his nails digging into the back of Derek’s hand snapping him out of it. “Your eyes are flashing red.”

Derek clears his throat, embarrassed to let his feelings get the better of him, to let himself lose control like this.

“Sorry,” Derek says, voice gruff. “I just- I’m sorry.”

Stiles huffs, concern written all over his face, but the soft lines of his mouth tell Derek Stiles gets what he’s apologizing for. Or at least that he’s not only apologizing for almost shifting at the coffee shop.

“It’s not-,” Stiles stops, struggling for words. “It didn’t- It’s not what you think. I’ve never- I mean. I’ve had sex with alphas before. And betas. But not- Just never through my heat. I had mostly one night stands, and although a few guys and girls were assholes, yeah, it was nothing I didn’t know how to deal with. And I’ve never been in a serious relationship because I’ve always had other priorities, so nothing bad happened there either. I want you to know that. And I guess I’m just surprised because I didn’treally think about how this was actually going to go? I’ve been taking suppressants for years now and I guess I forgot that my body has different needs when I’m actually going through my heat without the aid of meds.”

“Oh,” Derek says slowly, trying to process everything Stiles just said.

He doesn’t really know how to feel about the fact that he’s going to be the first alpha to ever help Stiles through one of his heats, especially considering they’ll be doing this together so Stiles can get pregnant.

Part of him is glad he’ll be the first one to see him like that, to help him through it, to touch him when he’s hot and slick and delirious with how much he _wants_. And another part can’t help but feel the pressure of knowing he’ll have to make this good for him.

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Derek tries, feeling a little out of his depth. “Things will be different this time. Without the suppressants. Everything will be more intense. And I want to do everything I can to help you through it and make sure I have everything you might need at the apartment before the week starts.”

Stiles stares at him for a few seconds, with something like fondness on his face, and then says, “Well, I like to drink orange juice after heat. Even when I’m on suppressants. And I guess I have a preference for sweet things. Fresh fruit. And meat. Lots of meat.”

“I’ll stock up,” Derek promises, already making a mental list for when he goes grocery shopping. “What about bedsheets?”

Stiles stares at him, and blinks once, very slowly. “It’s a good thing to have them?”

Derek can’t tell if Stiles is being dense on purpose or not but he ignores it.Because this is _important_ information he should have.

“Do you have a fabric preference? Cotton or silk or something?” He pauses. “Or, what about thread count?”

Stiles stares at him like he can’t quite believe Derek’s asking him about this, but after figuring out Derek means it, he smirks and says,“My preference is basically whatever’s on sale. I don’t really have much room, or money, to be picky.”

Well, now he feels a little awkward. He forgot that even though he’s always been able to buy things so he’s as comfortable as possible, that’s not always the case for other people.

“I’ll just get you the kind I like then,” Derek decides, and makes another note to wash them after he gets them until they smell only like him.

Stiles’s eyes narrow and his smile widens, “You’re going to completely _spoil_ me aren’t you?”

Derek blushes a little at that, because to him spoiling Stiles is the least he can do.

He tells Stiles that much, and enjoys the way Stiles looks at him again in surprise and tries not to show how much he likes Derek’s words.

The beat of his heart and his scent give him away.

They talk a bit more about Stiles's heat, what he needs through it, what they should expect from it, with Stiles leaning more heavily against Derek’s side the more time passes.

They stand eventually, and walk out together, and Derek gets a little distracted by the way Stiles's cheeks and the tip of his nose start to flush because of the cold, and it takes him a few seconds to realize that neither of them are walking away from each other. It’s Stiles clearing his throat that kind of snaps him out of it, his lips twitching up at seeing Stiles shift from foot to foot, also seeming at a loss for how to go on his way.

For once, Derek’s the one to speak first. “So, about next week? Do you want me to come pick you up or should we meet at Morrell’s? How do you want to do this?”

Stiles looks like he’s thinking for a moment, and then answers, “Well, you have a car right?” Derek nods. “So maybe you could come pick me up then? So I’m not lugging my duffel bag all over the city?”

Derek nods. “Sure, of course. I’d love to.”

Stiles beams. “I’ll text you my address then?” He pulls a beanie out of his pocket then and puts it on his head, taming a few of the messy locks, but the majority still stick out at weird angles. It’s still terribly endearing. “See you next week, I guess!”

This time around, Derek doesn’t hesitate before stepping into Stiles’s personal space and dragging him into a hug, sticking his nose just behind Stiles's ear and breathing in pure _Stiles_.

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s waist and squeezes back, rubbing his nose lightly into Derek’s shoulder. It makes Derek a little lightheaded--he’s been scent marking Stiles this whole time but this is the first time Stiles has _done it back_.

They stand like that for a moment before moving apart, and Derek feels good about this. Hugging Stiles doesn’t make him tense, doesn’t make his hackles rise, doesn’t make him ready himself for something bad to happen. It feels right to hold on to Stiles like this, to have them touch, to have him close.

And when they part ways after Stiles promising to text him his address and Derek telling him to call him if he needs anything or thinks about something else Derek should get him, Derek tries to pretend he can’t smell the way Stiles's scent lingers on his clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update June 6th around 5pm EST.


	5. His isolation is confirmation for his desperation for healing hugs.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you don’t come back to us in one piece you can tell Derek I’ll hunt him down, kill him, and make a coat out of his wolf fur,” Lydia says sweetly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from [Fixer Upper from the Frozen OST](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06ocF-opjiA&feature=kp).
> 
> And here’s the [Settle Down 'Verse Orientation Breakdown](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/sdch) in case you need it. 
> 
> Also, rating will be changing next chapter! :D
> 
> xoxo,
> 
> J & P

Stiles holds back a sigh as he throws the last of his clothes into his duffel, balancing his phone between his shoulder and ear, and listens to his dad tell him for the hundredth time to call him if he needs anything.

“It doesn’t mean that just because I’m back home, I don’t know people who serve in New York,” the Sheriff tells him. “There are people there who owe me favors and who think it would be no trouble to stop by this Alpha Hale’splace and check things out for me.”

“Dad,” Stiles rolls his eyes, grateful his dad can’t see him. “I already told you he’s cool. He doesn’t have that evil vibe Deucalion did or that creepy stalker kid with the camera _or_ my high school English teacher. It’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Stiles,” his dad sighs, long suffering.

“And Scott’s met him,” Stiles adds brightly. “ _And_ he approved of him. So did Kira. Actually, Kira likes him so much she’s actually been friends with him for _years_. Before I even met him. So stop worrying, old man.”

“It’s my job to worry,” his dad says. “Especially when I have _you_ as my kid.”

“I resent that.”

“Just be careful,” the Sheriff says then. “And if you need anything don’t hesitate to call me, alright kid?”

“Yeah, dad, of course I will,” Stiles promises. “Love you.”

“Love you too, son.”

Stiles has just barely tossed his phone onto the bed and finished packing his things when he hears someone knocking insistently at his door.

It’s no surprise to him when he opens it to find Scott, Kira, Lydia, Jackson, and Dawn there, knowing they were going to stop by at some point to say their goodbyes for the week and probably repeat the conversation he just had with his dad.

What he’s not expecting, though, is to have Allison standing just behind Lydia, her dimples showing as she smiles and waves at him.

“Well, come on,” Stiles says, gesturing them all inside. “I don’t want any of you to still be here when Derek arrives.”

“Rude,” Lydia sniffs in disapproval, but still kisses him on the cheeks as she walks past him to the living room.

“It’s like you don’t even want us here in the first place,” Scott frowns, all puppy eyes.

“Of course I want you here,” Stiles punches him playfully on the shoulder. “You know, except Jackson. He can go.”

“If I go, I’m taking my daughter with me,” Jackson threatens.

Dawn chooses that moment to wave her arms in front of her and squeal, chubby hands opening and closing as she stares at Stiles.

Stiles melts.

And promptly plucks her from Jackson’s arms, holding her against his chest and placing kisses all over her face. And, you know, smiling until she manages to get a good hold of his ear and tries to yank his face down.

“You sure this one’s not a werewolf, guys? She’s almost stronger than her Uncle Stiles!”

“You know that we won’t know if she’s a wolf until she’s five,” Lydia huffs, and then grows serious for a second. “And I hope we never get to find out if she’s a banshee.”

Stiles grimaces, tightening his hold on Dawn.

He hopes for the same thing, because as far as they can tell banshee powers are only triggered by either a traumatic experience or close death and he’d _never_ want that to happen to Dawn.

“You’re not her uncle, Stilinski,”Jackson says, saving everyone from the somber mood by being his usual charming self.

Stiles opens his mouth to say something scathing in reply, but Allison jumps in before he can.

“All ready to go Stiles?”

Stiles knew there was a reason she hung around: keeping Jackson in line. Or at least keeping Stiles from punching him in the face.

Jackson was a part of a huge pack when he was younger; his _own_ pack, up in Boston, his own _family,_ and had actually been poised to take over as Alpha after his father. He was practically raised from a very young age to be one. Must be why he has such a dickish personality.

Stiles isn’t really sure _what_ happened when Jackson was twelve, but he does know it involved an Alpha pack and the complete destruction of Jackson’s family.

Chris Argent, who’d been a friend and ally of Jackson’s dad and their pack for years, had called in some favors and got some of his hunters to help with the fight, not that it mattered in the end.

Stiles knows only Jackson had made it out of the Whittemore pack with his life intact. What’s worse was that Chris lost his wife and Allison lost her mom when one of the Alphas bit her and the bite didn’t take.

At the time, Jackson had been just a year older than Allison, the two of them were friends, and Chris had taken him in and raised him as part of the family.

Allison had been a little overprotective of Jackson ever since then, and they’re still super close. As in brother and sister close. Kind of like Stiles is with Scott. And sometimes with Lydia, when she lets him.

Stiles guesses that makes sense, considering what happened. But still, most of the time it’s like someone took all of Jackson’s niceness and put it in Allison.

“Yup,” Stiles nods. “I just have to get my hugs and I’m ready to go.”

The word ‘hugs’ must be all Scott was waiting for, because as soon as Stiles finishes speaking he finds himself with an armful of his best friend, Scott’s face tucked between his shoulder and neck.

“Alright, alright,” Stiles rolls his eyes, even though he’s grinning, and wraps his arms around Scott’s shoulders. “Scent away.”

“Thanks bro,” Scott mumbles.

“No problem, buddy.”

“Kira and I will stock up your fridge for when you come back,” Scott promises. “I’ll even buy you that gross orange juice you like so much.”

“I appreciate it,” Stiles laughs, giving him one final squeeze. “You good?”

“I’ll be better after you come back,” Scott tells him, shrugging, because it’s not like he can keep himself from worrying.

“Fair enough,” Stiles sighs, and then opens his arms. “Who’s next?”

Kira offers herself up to be hugged, telling Stiles to take care of himself and say hi to Derek for her. Jackson and Dawn are next, with Jackson reluctantly running a hand up and Stiles’ arm and scent marking him while Stiles bends down to kiss Dawn’s cheek. Lydia comes later, tucking her head under Stiles’ chin and laying her cheek on his chest.

“If you don’t come back to us in one piece you can tell Derek I’ll hunt him down, kill him, and make a coat out of his wolf fur,” Lydia says sweetly.

“I’ll make sure he knows,” Stiles kisses the top of her head. He will definitely _not_ be telling Derek that. He’s also pretty sure that if Lydia had managed to wrangle her way into one of their coffee dates she’d like Derek more than she likes Stiles.

They all say their goodbyes to him, making him promise to call as soon as he can to let them know he’s okay. Allison is the only one who stays behind, something Stiles doesn’t really mind. It’s better than Derek showing up to Stiles’s _entire pack_ there to send him off.

Plus, Allison doesn’t really count as a pack member. She’s just kind of a _friend_ of the pack given her closeness to both Lydia and Jackson. Even when she and Scott had dated briefly when they’d first moved to New York, she really hadn’t been a pack member. Just, sort of pack _adjacent_.

“Thanks for stopping by today,” Stiles says, offering her a smile.

“No problem,” Allison waves him off. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something before Derek got here.”

Stiles stills. As awesome as Allison and her father are, they still have a lot of reservations when it comes to werewolves. Even more so when it comes to Alphas. It’s understandable, they had some bad experiences, but so has Derek.

He thinks.

He’s pretty sure, actually.

Either way, it’s really nice for Allison to be concerned, but he hardly thinks it’s necessary.

“Okay.” He’s not a big enough douche to completely dismiss her though.

“It’s just a lot isn’t, Stiles?” Allison begins, softly, carefully. “This is the first time you’re going off your suppressants in _years_ , and so you don’t even know how _that’s_ going to feel and on top of that, this is the first heat week you’ll be spending with an alpha, isn’t it?”

She’s helping him fold some of the shirts he had lying haphazardly on his bed, and he appreciates that. He likes not being the only one who doesn’t know what to do with his hands sometimes.

“Technically, yes, that’s all true,” he replies. “But I can’t even explain this. Explain how right this feels for me, at this point in my life.”

Allison nods. “I just really want you to be sure that you know what you’re getting into. Know all aspects of it. It’s not the safest thing, having heat sex with an Alpha, but I know you. I know that you wouldn’t do something you aren’t sure about. I just needed to hear you say it.”

Stiles smiles, he doesn’t know how it happened, but he’s got _so many_ people who care so much about him. He’s pretty lucky.

He goes over to wrap an arm around her shoulders and place a small kiss on her cheek. “I appreciate it, Ally, I do. I know it’s important to think these things through. But I trust Derek. Completely. He’s a good man and I can already tell he’s going to be an _excellent_ father.”

“I suppose the fact that Kira’s family has known him since he was little helps,” Allison says, leaning into him a little as she finishes folding the shirt she’s holding and places it on top of his bag.

“Maybe a little bit,” Stiles admits, grinning when Allison shakes her head at him.

“So are you ready to leave?” she asks, checking her watch. “I think it’s almost time for him to be here.”

Stiles looks at the time and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and trying not to suddenly feel overwhelmed about this whole thing.

He’s proud when his voice doesn’t shake as he says, “Yes, I’m ready.”

* * *

 

“I don’t need to remind you three not to come around during the next week, do I?” Derek crosses his arms over his chest, eyeing his pack.

“Isaac’s had regular heats since we were eighteen. It’s not the first time we’ve had to clear out because of something like this,” Erica rolls her eyes, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “So stop worrying. We promise we won’t stop by until you give us the okay.”

“Yes,” Isaac nods, and then wrinkles his nose. “Because I sure don’t want to have my own heat triggered because my Alpha’s having heat sex with someone.”

“I don’t even want to be here for this conversation,” Boyd tells him, looking about done with all of them. “There’s a Scrubs rerun marathon on. I’m missing it.”

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose.

As much as Boyd’s his favorite, Derek really wished he’d at least pretend to care about this.

He tells him that much.

“I care,” Boyd gives him a pointed look, offended. “But you’re just telling us things we already know.”

“What Boyd said,” both Erica and Isaac say, grinning when Derek sighs and looks skyward.

“Go watch your show, then,” Derek shakes his head at them. “And I promise I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“Please don’t,” Isaac grimes, looking grossed out. “I don’t want to know what you get up and _into_ during heat week.”

“I do,” Erica pipes up, all smirks. “So you can _definitely_ call me.”

“Call me,” Boyd tells him, resting a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “I’ll help and I won’t make fun of you. Much.”

“Just get out.”

“We’re going,” Erica scoffs. “But just so you know, if the pregnancy takes, we’ll be stopping by so these two can meet Stiles.”

Derek barely has any time to worry about the possibility of Boyd and Isaac meeting Stiles, because suddenly all he can think about are the words ‘if the pregnancy takes’.

“You just had to mention the pregnancy, didn’t you?” Isaac sighs.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look this overwhelmed before,” Erica blinks, tilting her head to the side. “I like it.”

“Come on,” Boyd says, throwing an arm around Erica’s shoulders and resting his hand flat against Isaac’s back. “We’ll see you in a week, Derek.”

“Right,” Derek says weakly. “A week.”

They all say their goodbyes and wave at him before they leave, while Derek just keeps standing there in the middle of his kitchen trying to get his emotions under control.

It takes him about ten minutes to clear his head enough of images of babies and pregnant people and heat sex, but he still has to sit in his car for an extra five before manages to start the car and drive off to Stiles’s.

Stiles’s address is for one of the older apartment buildings in the Village. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but the older looking shabby apartment complex he arrived at wasn’t it. He’d heard of a lot of projects to renovate older buildings around the area, and he was hoping that Stiles was living in one of those. Stiles wasn’t. And that worries him, because living in a place this old couldn’t possibly be safe.

But at least, if the pregnancy takes, Stiles will be living with him for the next nine months. _Away_ from here. Somewhere safe and warm and not detrimental for his health.

Derek sends Stiles a quick text letting him know he’s outside, and a couple of minutes later he finds himself standing in from of Stiles’s apartment door, hand raised and ready to knock.

Except the door bursts open before he can and he’s met with Stiles’s wide-eyed stare.

“Oh,” Stiles startles, right before breaking into a smile. “Well, hi.”

“Hey,” Derek says, dropping his hand. “How are you?”

“I’m good. I just have to finish up a few things before I’m ready to go, though. So come on in.”

Derek steps inside the apartment and breathes in the scent of _Stiles_ and _other pack_ , letting his eyes scan over the place. Theapartmentis neater than he’d expected, clean smelling and tidy, though it does have silly throw pillows and fluffy blankets _everywhere_.

He takes a seat on an old and ripped up couch next to a pillow that says ‘ _carpe that fucking diem’_ and wonders where Stiles even found such a thing. The kitchen and living area are all one big room, the space broken up by a small island and three squashy barstools, each one different. There are no doors on the cabinets, and Derek can see equally mismatched sets of plates, bowls, and cups stacked neatly on the shelves. There’s a small fridge in the corner, and the entire things is covered by an array of mismatched post-it notes, postcards, and newspaper clippings. The room is messy and clean at the same time and so very _Stiles_.  

Derek has to say he kind of likes it.

He even goes as far as telling Stiles that, clearing his throat before saying, “You have a nice place.”

Stiles makes a face at him that’s all _oh really_. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not,” Derek shakes his head. “It’s lived in. Homey.”

Stiles blinks at him twice before mouthing the words _homey_ , and his entire face softens when his eyes flicker to the blush Derek has no doubts he’s sporting.

“Thanks,” Stiles tells him, giving him a small smile. “I’ll just go do my thing, and then we can go.”

“Take your time,” Derek says, wanting Stiles to have everything he absolutely needs to spend heat week with him.

Stiles smiles, eyes flashing as if something just dawned on him. “I know! Allison can come keep you company!”

He _skips_ back to his room then—and who even does that if they’re over eight years old?—and starts talking, presumably to someone in there.

A few seconds later, a woman with long, wavy brown hair and a sweet smile and dimples comes out, heading towards Derek and lifting her hand.

“Hi! You must be Derek.”

Derek takes in another deep breath, cataloguing her scent, and figuring out she must be one of the humans Stiles told him were not officially pack but hung around sometimes. Since she smells of the others and Stiles, but not enough to mean she actually spends a lot of time in their presence.

“Yes. Derek Hale,” Derek says, getting up and nodding at her. “It’s nice meet—”

Derek’s words die in his throat at the way her smile falls and her brow tenses in response to his introduction.

“Oh,” she says, voice small.

“Is something wrong?” Derek asks, shifting in place, not knowing if he should call out for Stiles to come for her.

“I’m—,” she starts, crossing her arms over her chest before letting them fall limp by her sides. “My name’s Allison. Allison Argent.”

Derek can feel his shoulders tense up and it feels like there’s ice in his gut. He hasn’t come across any Argents since _her_ and he’d honestly hoped he never would.

He takes a deep breath and tries to organize his thoughts. He knows logically that there are a group of Argents who really do follow the code and therefore would mean him or his pack no harm.

“Who—,” he croaks out, before clearing his throat and trying again. “Who are you to—to _her_?”

Allison bites her lip apologetically and curls her fingers in the hem of her sweater. “Kate was my aunt.”

Which means, “You’re Chris’s daughter?”

Derek relaxes just a little at that because Chris is one of the good ones. He can handle this if she’s with Chris.

Allison nods, brow scrunching up like she’s in distress. “Yes, I’m Chris and Victoria’s daughter. God, Derek I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring _her_ up on a day like today. I didn’t know your last name, I should’ve asked Stiles. I can go.” She nods decisively and sends him a tiny smile. “I’m just going to go, okay?”

Derek relaxes even further, because he _knows_ Chris is a good man, knows that their family has _helped_ wolves, not hunted them, and that Allison seems to be nothing at all like Kate.

“No, Allison,” he replies quickly, not sure when Stiles is coming out, because he is _so not ready_ to go into this with someone new. “You’re fine. I know what Chris and Victoria did for the Whittemore pack, and I know he adopted one of the cubs after Deucalion was through with his little show of dominance. I’ve always really admired him for that.”

“That’s Jackson,” Allison says, eyes softening. “My dad raised him like my brother. He’s actually part of Scott’s pack. His only Beta. He’s married to Lydia, and they just had a baby girl.”

And it kind of figures, since this is Derek’s life, that things would end up this way. He would end up finding a surrogate that not only was in another wolf pack, but one that would result in him confronting his past, even if that’s not something he’s ready to do quite yet.

“I don’t blame you for what— For what _she_ did.” That’s the best Derek can offer right now, and it helps that it’s the absolute truth. “What do you say we put this behind us? You’re close to Stiles, and Stiles and I are most likely going to be spending a lot of time together in the next few months, and I don’t want you to feel like you can’t spend time with him,”Derek says, raising his hand in a gesture of truce.

Allison clasps Derek’s palm in both of hers, and nods at him. ~~~~“That sounds good to me. Thank you.”

Stiles walks in then, on the tail end of Allison’s statement, looking between their joined hands and their serious faces, his brow furrowing and eyes turning curious.

“Everything okay out here?” he asks finally, looking between Allison and Derek’s face rapidly, almost as if he’s at a tennis match. Or as if he’s trying to figure something out.

Had this been any other situation, Derek might have chuckled at how silly he looks, but now all he can do is look at Allison, wide-eyed, and hope that she understands that he’s not ready to really talk about this in detail. _Especially_ with Stiles, who has no idea of his history or what he’s been through.

Luckily Allison jumps in, squeezing his hand before dropping and turning to Stiles with a wide smile, dimples on full display.

“Nothing to worry about Stiles! Our families have a bit of history, but things are okay now.” She walks over to him and places a soft kiss on his cheek, ignoring the way his eyes tense. Derek wonders how much Stiles knows about Allison’s extended family. Given the expression on his face, he definitely knows that some of them aren’t the nicest people. “I’m going to head out Stiles. I’ll see you in about a week? Dinner at Lydia’s right?”

Stiles recovers then, face clearing up as he brings an arm up to squeeze her around the waist, and nods. “See you later, Ally.”

She gives Derek a small wiggle of her fingers and mouths the words _bye_ , and before he can even respond, she’s out the door.

Stiles turns to him, still looking concerned. “You sure everything’s okay?”

“Yes,” Derek promises. “I’m sure.”

Stiles presses his lips together, kind of like he wants to say something, but Derek’s glad when he doesn’t push. He’s really not ready to have this all out with Stiles right before heat week, or any time soon if he’s being honest.

“Okay,” Stiles nods once. “I just have to grab my duffel and then we can go.”

Stiles comes out of his room with a small bag, and Derek doesn’t think he’s ever going to stop being surprised by how little Stiles really needs. His resolve to make sure Stiles has the most confortable week possible just strengthens; he’s _definitely_ going to spoil him a little.

Something he feels that he succeeds in doing when Stiles lets out a low whistle of appreciation when they get to the Camaro. It’s not the most extravagant car, and he definitely could’ve afforded something more expensive; but his dad had had a Camaro when Derek was little. Driving it makes Derek feel a bit closer to him, now that he’s gone.

He lets Stiles fiddle with the radio once they’re driving; something he hopes Erica never finds out about, because he’s _never_ let her touch the car stereo.

Then again, Erica’s never been prepared to give him a kid. Stiles is allowed all sorts of privileges that no one _ever_ will be.

This is the first time the two of them have been in such close quarters and Stiles’s sweet omega scent is permeating everywhere, especially this close to his heat, making Derek want to stop the car so he can bury his nose in the spot right behind Stiles’s ear and breathe him in forever.

He’s almost glad to reach the TOL offices, however, because that way he won’t have to worry about doing anything like _that_. Given the way Stiles keeps glancing at him though, he’s pretty sure any sort of advance would not be unwelcome. Still, he wants to wait and do this _right_.

Once inside, Derek barely pays attention to Morrell and Braeden greeting them and welcoming them into her office. All he can really concentrate on is the way Stiles’s scent slowly intensifies by the _barest_ amounts as time passes.

He _does_ start paying attention when Marin starts telling Stiles that she went to Derek’s to make sure that he would be comfortable and safe during his heat week, though, mostly because of the way Stiles looks at them in surprise.

“It’s our policy to guarantee our omegas will be well taken care of,” Marin says, lips tipping up when Stiles just keeps staring at them. “Part of that is ensuring that where they spend their heat weak is safe, secluded and comfortable. Since Derek chose not to take advantage of the space we provide, it is important that we make sure the space he prefers is appropriate. As it happens, we’re happy to inform you it is. More so than we’d expected.”

Derek can’t help but blush and squirm in his chair when faced with Marin’s knowing smile.

He meant it when he told Stiles he would get anything he needed for the time of and the day after his heat, and he spared no expenses in doing so. He _might_ have gone a little overboard with the amount of food he bought, but it’s not like Isaac, Erica, and Boyd won’t eat whatever’s left.

“Really?” Stiles asks him, eyes bright.

Derek just shrugs, still embarrassed, but gives him a small nod.

Soon enough, Derek and Stiles are signing the last page of the heat contract, after verbally telling Braeden and Marin that _yes_ , they still want to do this. Stiles is smiling shyly at Derek the entire time, and he just _wants_. He barely hears Marin wish them ‘good luck’ as he puts his hand on the small of Stiles’s back to lead him back to the car.

Derek drives towards his apartment almost on autopilot, anxious to be home and almost overcome with the desire to see Stiles settled in and comfortable in Derek’s space. He’s not sure if Stiles’s scent is intensifying because his heat is so close or because he’s excited and aroused at the prospect of being alone with Derek, but the aromas in the car are only getting stronger the closer they get to home.

“Hey, Derek,” Stiles pipes up when they’re about five minutes away from Derek’s place. “Do you think maybe we could stop somewhere?”

“Is something wrong?” Derek asks, frowning, already going over what happened since they left TOL.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Nothing’s wrong. Well, aside from the fact that I’m _starving_. Do you think we could maybe stop by McDonald’s or something? Grab something greasy and delicious to eat?”

“Yes,” Derek says, maybe a little too quickly if judging by the way Stiles smirks at him. But damn him if he’s not going to give Stiles the kind of food he wants, even if fast food does kind of taste like shit to him.

Derek regrets his decision as soon as Stiles starts eating.

And it’s not because of at the way Stiles licks off ketchup off his fingers every time after he eats a fry.

It’s not.

* * *

 

Marin sure hadn’t been lying when she said that Stiles would probably be pleased by Derek’s apartment. It’s not even technically an apartment. Stiles’s shitty one bedroom hole in the wall is an apartment.

But Derek lives in of one of the nicest buildings surrounding Central Park. There’s a _doorman_ and a _valet_ and according the signs next to the elevator buttons, there’s several pools, a roof terrace, two gyms, a game room, a BBQ grillroom, and a basketball court.

Derek’s actual apartment is a fucking three bedroom. A three-bathroom _luxury high-rise_ _penthouse_.

It’s probably the nicest place Stiles’s ever been, and he’s stayed at Lydia’s apartment more often than not since his second book tanked.

Like Stiles’s apartment, Derek’s living room and kitchen are basically one huge room. The only difference is that Stiles’s entire apartment would probably fit in that room. Not to mention Derek’s got floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, brushed oak plank floors and an honest-to-god washer and dryer _in the apartment_. The one thing he honestly hated about moving to New York was having to use public Laundromats.

The kitchen looks like something out of a magazine. It’s all sleek stainless steel broken up by deep dark maple cabinetry and smoky granite counter tops. He’s pretty sure if he took a peek in one of the cupboards, he’d see perfectly matching kitchenware, the absolute opposite of Stiles’s. Also, instead of an island, Derek’s got an honest to god complete wet bar separating his kitchen space from the living space. The cabinet doors there are dark wood framing glass and Stiles can see neat lines of wine, margarita and whiskey glasses in the cabinets.

Stiles takes a moment to lament the fact he won’t be able to drink from any of it if he does end up living here for the next nine months.

He can’t really help but muffle a giggle when he sees the furniture of the living room, however.He’d been expecting more sleek lines and perfect interior design, but instead he’s met with various squishy armchairs and a couple different colored sofas and _nothing_ matches. The coffee table matches the wood in the kitchen, but doesn’t match the end tables at either end of the couch. There’s an olive green armchair with a light blue ottoman in front of it, the couch is a dark purple color and a loveseat that’s a light tan color. The only thing that seems similar about any of these things is that they look soft and squishy and _comfortable_.

Stiles loves it.

Derek guides him to a bedroom that’s about twice the size of the bedroom in Stiles’s apartment, _and_ it’s got it’s own en suite bathroom.

Stiles notices that the duvet on the bed is blue and the bed sheets are peach color and he doesn't really understand how that color combination works, but it totally does. He throws his duffel onto the bench at foot of the bed, and doesn’t hesitate before trying out the mattress. Sinking into the bed is like falling onto a soft, firm _cloud_ and he would very much just like to live out the rest of his days here thank you very much.

“This is the guest bedroom,” Derek says, watching him from the doorway with a strange look on his face. “I thought you’d be more comfortable having your own space before your heat starts.”

Stiles wonders if the way Derek’s staring at him is because he’s basically spreading his scent all over the duvet. But when Derek doesn’t say anything as he rolls to his side and props himself up on his elbow, he figures Derek doesn’t mind that much.

He does notices Derek eyeing his fairly small duffel bag skeptically, though, and Stiles remembers him making a similar face earlier when he’d first brought it out of his bedroom.

He grins cheekily when Derek meets his gaze and says, “It’s heat week. I don’t really wear clothes. And I’ve heard you bought everything else I could possibly need, so.” Only to be absolutely _delighted_ when Derek flushes up to his hairline.

Derek swallows for a moment, and Stiles kind of enjoys the way his eyes roam over Stiles’s body where it’s splayed lazily along the bed before he replies, “It’s, uh, kind of late?”

And he’s _still_ blushing, it’s fucking adorable.

Stiles hopes he’s lucid enough during his heat to be able to drive Derek a little crazy with some dirty talk, because he wants to know just how far down Derek’s body that blush goes.

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees, because after the meeting at TOL and stopping for dinner, it took them longer than Stiles thought it would to get to Derek’s place.

“We should probably go to bed,” Derek tells him, and then makes the most horrified face when he realizes how that came out and immediately starts correcting himself. “ _Rest_. I mean, I didn’t— _You_ should rest. _Here_. I don’t expect you to— At least not right away—”

Stiles laughs, Derek’s horror doing only cementing to him that Derek is absolutely the right person to spend his first heat with an alpha and without suppressants with.

“I get it,” Stiles says, still grinning and enjoying Derek’s embarrassment probable a lot more than he should. “Separate beds for tonight. And you’re right, it’s been a long day, and resting sounds like an awesome idea.”

“Good,” Derek nods sharply. “That’s— I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast, then?”

“Definitely.”

Derek bids him good night and closes the door behind him, leaving Stiles alone to explore his new room. Not that he does much of that. He wasn’t lying when he said it had been a long day.

So Stiles just dumps the few clothes he brought into one of the drawers in the chest by the bed and takes his toiletries bag into the bathroom. He takes a short shower, familiarizing himself with the bathroom and brushing his teeth.

He sinks face first into the mattress, taking a tentative sniff before relaxing onto his side.

The sheets ( _Derek’s sheets_ he thinks to himself briefly) smell _really_ good.

And if he ends up falling asleep faster than usual? Well, like he said, it’s been a long day.

Derek wakes up early the next morning keenly aware that there’s another heartbeat in his apartment. It’s not something unusual, considering Erica, Boyd and Isaac never hesitate to invite themselves over to his place, but there’s an obvious difference to the uptick of Stiles’ heart.

He’s kind of surprised by how much that _doesn’t_ bother him.

So he gets up and goes through a quick workout routine before taking an equally brief shower.He decides to put on a hoodie before he leaves his room instead of walking around shirtless, and goes to the kitchen, busying himself with making breakfast for himself and Stiles.

He starts hearing the soft stirring of Stiles’s waking up and using the bathroom just as he finishes scrambling a half dozen eggs. He adds half to each of the plates he’s already prepared--plates that already contain a couple pancakes, two pieces of toast, some sausage links and half a grapefruit each. There’s a possibility he overdid it a little with breakfast, but that’s okay. He needs to make sure Stiles sees that Derek can provide for him and will take care of him.

Stiles stumbles out, still looking half asleep, hair in even more disarray than usual and clothes wrinkled. He’s wearing an old worn pair of red plaid pajama pants paired with a faded black T-shirt that says BHPD on the corner.He doesn’t even look up at Derek when he sits down at the dining table, just blinks blearily at the spot in front of him.

Derek thinks he looks adorable.

He also doesn’t waste any time in sliding one of the plates closer to Stiles before taking out two mugs and filling them with coffee.Judging by Stiles’s behavior right now, he’s probably gonna need about two cups before he even realizes Derek’s in the room.

Derek can’t help but preen internally at the pleased little noises Stiles makes when looks down at the food. And when he drains his first cup of coffee. And then when he actually starts _eating_ , shoveling food into his mouth like this is the best thing he’s ever tasted.

Derek also can’t help but stifle a pleased hum when Stiles looks up a couple moments later, eyes warm and pleased and says, “God, Derek this is _amazing_.”

“It’s just breakfast,” Derek shrugs, feeling equal parts proud of himself and a little embarrassed by Stiles’s easy praise.

“It’s the best food my mouth’s ever tasted, you mean,” Stiles corrects him, refilling his mug. “But don’t tell Scott’s mom I said that, she’ll be mad.”

“I’ll keep your secret,” Derek shakes his head, smiling a little.

Stiles smiles conspiratorially and then clears his throat before speaking again, “So do you need to go in to work today? I brought my laptop so I’m totally fine here on my own for the day.”

Derek shakes his head. “I took today, tomorrow, and next week off. I’m fine working from home today.”

“Oh,” Stiles says slowly. “That’s cool.”

“Actually,” Derek starts. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. About what you usually do before your heat starts?”

Stiles shrugs, running a hand through his hair. “I just kind of lay around and eat a lot and drink my weight in juice and play video games, to be honest. Nothing too exciting.”

Derek nods, because it makes sense for Stiles not to do anything strenuous right before his heat week. He knows from Isaac, and from his dad being an omega, that heat can take a lot from a person, so this was kind of the answer he was expecting.

“I have a desk in my room that I normally work at, and will probably be there most of the day.” He pauses. “Don’t wor—I mean, it’s totally fine if you want to interrupt me for any reason. If you need anything. And _please_ help yourself to anything in the kitchen at any time. I want—I want you to feel comfortable here.”

Stiles smiles, wide and pleased and _gorgeous_. “I already do. Especially with you giving me the guest bedroom for tonight instead of insisting— It meant a lot to me, that you’d be willing to do that. I actually meant to thank you for it before but, well. So thank you for letting me have my own space before we, you know.”

Derek can’t really help the blush he knows is blooming on his cheeks, but Stiles is looking at him happy and content, so he decides not to care about his red face that much.

“I—Yes,” Derek says. “And it was no problem. You don’t have to thank me for it. It’s the least I could do, when you’re— When you’re willing to give me so much.”

Derek swallows hard after he says that, lowering his eyes to the half empty plate in front of him. He hadn’t planned for it to come out, but he means it. Making sure Stiles is taken care of throughout this week—and for the next nine months, if the pregnancy takes—is one of his top priorities right now, and it _is_ the least he can do to pay him back for doing something like this for him.

Stiles seems to get it, because his entire face softens as he nods, and he reaches a hand out briefly to trace the back of Derek’s hand with his fingers before going back to his own food.

They don’t say anything more about it.

Until Stiles shoos him away after they finish eating, claiming that since Derek made breakfast, he is perfectly capable of taking care of the dirty dishes. He tries to protest, saying that Stiles is a _guest_ in his home; but Stiles doesn’t bother to listen.

He thinks he should probably start getting used to that, Stiles not listening to him. He has a feeling that’s going to be a recurring problem in his future if everything goes as planned. A problem that should probably worry him more than it does.

Derek leaves him to do as he pleases for the rest of the day, not wanting to crowd him when he knows they’re pretty much going to be tangled together 24/7 for a whole week.

He decides to just go to his room and work on the half finished blueprints for his next project, keenly aware of Stiles moving around his space humming to himself and generally just making a lot of noise as he works. It’s been a really long time since he’s had someone else in his home just doing their own thing.

It’s kind of nice.

Derek hears the low whirring of Stiles’s ancient laptop and the clicking noises of the keys every now and then. He knows Stiles is a struggling writer, both from Marin telling him that when they were first matched up and from Stiles mentioning later when they met. He has to admit he googled Stiles after their second meeting at TOL and went so far as to order his book. It came a couple days later and he read the entire thing pretty much in a single day.

It was good. Stiles had written about what Derek realizes now must have been his actual high school experience, which seemed equal parts terrifying and fascinating to him as he read along. He can easily see it being popular among teenagers and he wonders why Stiles hasn’t written any sort of follow up. Not that he’s going to ask. He feels like prying about Stiles’s writing is not something Stiles would take well.

Derek gets back to his sketches then, letting the sounds of Stiles typing fade out slowly as he finishes the print.

A few hours later, the blueprint is all but done and he’s keenly aware of the grumbly noises his stomach is making. He walks out and sees Stiles sprawled out on the sofa with huge headphones on and playing some sort of war game on his computer. He doesn’t look up until Derek’s standing in front of him and placing a hand on his knee.

“I was thinking of ordering some lunch,” Derek says, because if Stiles is playing and not writing, he can take a break for food and not lose his rhythm. “Any preferences?”

“Oh, man,” Stiles says, grinning. “I’ll eat _anything_.”

“There’s this place just down the street that delivers,” Derek starts. “And they have the best meatball sub you’ll ever taste. Thoughts?”

Stiles’s eyes actually go wide in excitement and he nods furiously. “Yes! Yes, _please_! That sounds amazing. I would like extra cheese and extra sauce and absolutely no veggies please.”

Derek orders two meatball subs, one with extra cheese and sauce for Stiles and his regular-no cheese but extra mushrooms. On a whim, he orders a couple sodas and a bag of potato chips as well. He can afford to splurge on calories right now—he figures he’ll burn enough of them in the next couple days.

He grabs a couple plates and glasses to put on the table and wonders if he should go join Stiles on the couch or go wait in his room until the food gets there. He doesn’t want Stiles to think he doesn’t care about having him around by going to his room, but he also doesn’t want to force Stiles to spend time with him if he goes back to the living room.

Not that he has any more time to overthink this whole situation.

“Derek, I need you to teach me how to work your TV,” Stiles says as he appears by Derek’s side. “And please tell me you have Netflix. I’ve beengoing _crazy_ not being able to appreciate how amazing Orange Is The New Black seems to be sinceI had to cancel my subscription a couple months ago because I couldn’t afford it. Also your TV is the stuff of my _dreams_ and I absolutely need to take advantage of that gorgeous thing.”

Derek blinks.

And his lips curl up in amusement.

And his stomach doesn’t flip at the utter joy on Stiles’s face when he says he _does_ have Netflix and that he’s been meaning to watch the first season himself.

“Do you mind if I watch it with you?”

“Derek,” Stiles says seriously. “ _Derek_. I’d be offended if you didn’t. As long as you don’t mind me talking back to the TV pretty much every few minutes. It’s just a thing I do. Especially since I found out how much it irritated Jackson.”

So they spend a couple of hours eating and watching two episodes of the show, with Derek trying to hide how much he enjoys Stiles’s chatter and actually finds some of his comments funny. He especially enjoyed Stiles’s rant about how they don’t use the word bisexual.

Derek gets up at the end of the second episode, ready to get back to work and let Stiles get back to work, but then Stiles turns to him with pleading eyes.

“Please don’t make me stop now,” Stiles says, looking up at him from under his lashes.

Derek gives in pretty much right away.

He can do work in a week.

They order a pizza at some point after the sixth episode (half pepperoni and half pepperoni and tomatoes) and finish the entire thing by the tenth. And by the beginning of the eleventh episode Derek notices Stiles’s lids start to drop, his yawns coming more often than not, and he starts to worry.

Because so far he’s pretty much let Stiles do whatever he always does when he’s going through heat week alone, but this time things will obviously be different. Not only because Derek will be there, but also because it’ll be the first time Stiles will be off his suppressants since he started taking them.

That makes Derek think that maybe leaving Stiles to do this on his own tonight, just like he did yesterday, is not a really good idea or a good way to deal with this. Because what if is heat comes early and Derek’s all the way across the apartment in his room and is not there to _help him_?

Derek doesn’t know how Stiles will react to being asked to share Derek’s bed and he doesn’t want to come out sounding like an entitled asshole. He’d heard enough stories from his dad about asshole alphas thinking omegas should always do what their alphas tell them, and he doesn’t want Stiles to think that about him.

Because he’s not like that. At all.

He still doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries, though, and make Stiles uncomfortable.

So, you know, Derek worries.

* * *

 

Stiles can tell Derek’s freaking out.

They’d been having a really great time, watching TV and eating pizza, and it had felt really nice and relaxing. Like they were just two friends hanging out.

But now it’s about time to sleep, and Stiles’s heat could literally start at any point in the next couple hours, and Derek probably _knows_ that.

And he’s wondering if that’s why Derek tensed all of a sudden, with his eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled down in a frown.

And now _Stiles_ is starting to freak out a little.

Because what if Derek isn’t ready for this after all? Maybe he’s having second thoughts about impregnating him and having a child? Maybe he didn’t think this through enough and now the thought of him being a parent is scaring the shit out of him?

He can’t take any suppressants now though—it’s too late. The only option he has is to talk to Derek about it.

“Is everything okay, Derek?”

Derek looks up, eyes alarmed and a little crazy. He looks nervous and sheepish and hesitant. “Yes, it’s just—”

“Are you having second thoughts?” Stiles cuts him off, biting down on his bottom lip.

“What? No!” Derek’s frown deepens. “ _No_. I’m not having second thoughts.

Well, that’s—

Stiles has to say Derek’s quick and firm answer makes him glad. And his heart also melts a little at knowing Derek wants a child of his own so much.

But Derek still looks tense and like he’s about to bolt so Stiles tells him, as gently as he can, “If there’s anything you need to say then you should say it because if everything goes as planned I’m gonna end up carrying your kid and we should probably learn how to communicate before that happens.”

Derek nods slowly, lookingchastised before blushing a little and lowering his eyes. “Do you think—I was wondering if, I mean, only if you want to, maybe you could sleep in my bed tonight? With me? Only if you want to.” He sighs frustratedly. “I just want to be there for you? In case your heat starts early, that is.”

Stiles stills, heart clenching a little at how _nervous_ , and thoughtful and _adorable_ Derek is right now. He’s so obviously _trying_ to be accommodating and make sure that Stiles knows he has the option to say no that’s it kind of painful to watch.

And Derek’s still talking, “It’s totally okay if you don’t want to. It was just an idea.”

Stiles is all set to agree and he opens his mouth to say so, but what comes out instead is, “So, who’s the omega you know?”

“One of my Betas,” Derek says, and his expressions shutters when he adds, “And my dad was one as well.”

Stiles nods and doesn’t push, because he gets it. It still hurts, sometimes, to talk about his mom and she’s been gone since he was eight.

“Well,” Stiles says softly, trying for a smile. “As long as you don’t mind me kicking in my sleep and possibly hogging the covers, I’d be okay with sharing your bed.”

“Are you sure?” Derek asks, still tentative, but Stiles can tell by the way his shoulders relax a bit that’s he’s relieved with that answer.

“Absolutely,” Stiles gives him a sharp nod.

And sees the way the tension totally drains out of Derek at that, his own lips twitching up when Derek offers him a small smile.

It doesn’t take them long to actually go to bed after that, considering Stiles was practically nodding off before he noticed Derek’s internal freak out. He just has to stop by the guest bedroom to gather his things, making sure to have everything he needs for his heat.

The only thing Stiles didn’t consider when accepting Derek’s invitation—something he probably should have, now that he thinks about it—is how _awkward_ things get as soon as they lie down together in bed.

He’s lying onDerek’s bed, all stiff and uncomfortable because this is _new_. He’s not used to sharing a bed with anyone other than his pack mates, never mind someone as hot as Derek.

You know, _Derek_.

Someone he’ll probably—okay, _certainly_ —end up having sex with at some point tomorrow.

And _that_ thought makes him fidget in place, suddenly feeling even _more_ uncomfortable about all of this. His feet tangle a bit in the covers, and the more he moves the more noise he makes and the more they slide down past his chest and down his waist.

That’s about the time Derek’s totally and completely done with his bullshit. Or at least that’s what Stiles thinks, when he rolls over on his side to face him, brows furrowed and lips thin.

“Is something wrong?” Derek asks quietly.

“No, sorry,” Stiles shakes his head. “Just can’t get comfortable.”

Derek blinks at him once, twice, three times, before he seems to make a decision.

To say Stiles is startled when Derek, instead of telling Stiles to go back to his room and leave him alone, actually _cuddles up to him_ , is an understatement.

He’s _flabbergasted_.

Derek even goes as far as throwing a leg over Stiles’s and wrapping his arm around his waist, making sure to keep all of his movements slow and give Stiles a chance to protest or pull back if he wants to.

Not that Stiles wants to.

Not that Stiles even thinks he can open his mouth and say anything, either.

And Derek, in a moment that not like him _at all_ , tells him, voice soft and sleepy and muffled against Stiles’s shoulder, “Don’t worry about it. Just go to sleep. You need your rest for tomorrow.”

Stiles opens and closes his mouth a few times, not knowing what to say. You know, until he blurts out, “But I’m a worrier. That’s what I do. I _worry_. You can’t ask me to stop being myself, Derek.”

He feels Derek’s breath ghosting over his neck when Derek sighs, and closing his eyes and counting to ten is all he can do to keep himself from shivering.

“Stiles,” Derek says, and Stiles thinks it might be fondness in his tone. “Everything will be okay. I’ll make sure of it. I promise you.”

That, surprisingly—he didn’t lie when he said he was a worrier, because he is and it usually takes a lot more than just a few words to make him calm down—, is enough to make Stiles let out the breath he’d been holding.

But he guesses that’s Derek.

Or at least the effect Derek has on him.

Because even though they’ve only known each other for a little over a month, he can’t help but believe him.

And with that, he drifts off to sleep, feeling safe and comforted and yes, like everything’s going to be all right.

You know, until he wakes up in the middle of the night feeling slightly uncomfortable and a little slicker and wetter than he usually gets and with his dick hard and flushed and leaking precome into his boxers.

Great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so sorry. But remember, the rating IS going up next week! 
> 
> Next update: June 13th, around 5pm EST.


	6. Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me, creature of the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know, this is going to be the first time they have sex. Or see each other naked. Or _kiss_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is!! We’re sorry we made you guys wait this long, but we hope it’s worth it. And don’t forget to check the tags because we’ve added quite a few that we would like you to be aware of.
> 
> Chapter title from [Touch-a Touch-a Touch Me from The Rocky Horror Picture Show](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cUqCv_1kGzM&feature=kp).
> 
> xoxo,  
> J & P

“Fuck,” Stiles swears, feeling his dick twitch in his boxers when he turns on his side. “ _Fuck_.”

He sticks his arm out, feeling his way across the mattress until he grips at hard muscle and warm skin, nails digging into what Stiles thinks must be Derek’s arm.

He needs Derek to be up.

He needs Derek to be _up_ and inside of him, stretching him, filling him, _knotting him_.

Stiles can feel the heat burning low in his gut, can feel that he’s wet and leaking, that he’s making a _mess_ of Derek’s expensive sheets—he knows his heat has officially started.

He’s actually surprised Derek still hasn’t woken up, because even _he_ can smell the sex in the air, the pheromones, the sweat on his skin. He can’t even imagine what it must be like for a werewolf, with their heightened senses and inherent instincts.

He doesn’t have time to think about how he’s gonna have to be the one to wake Derek up, how he’s going to have to ask him for what he needs. He’s feeling way too out of his skin with heat already to bother with being embarrassed or awkward about that.

You know, about how this is going to be the first time they have sex. Or see each other naked. Or _kiss_.

He moves towards where he thinks Derek is, and moans at the way it causes his dick to rub against the mattress.

He can feel Derek stir under his hand and he just presses down harder, grabbing Derek’s arm and shaking it, trying to wake him up even more.

At some point Stiles begins to call his name, between tiny gasps and choked up moans, a string of _Derek Derek Derek_ falling from between his lips.

It’s not only until Stiles slides up against Derek’s side that he wakes up though, eyes heavy with sleep and voice rough when he asks, “Stiles?”

Stiles’s only response to that is to nuzzle closer, hoping that Derek’s senses will help him figure out what going on before Stiles actually has to _say_ anything.

It doesn’t take long.

Between Stiles tightening his hold on Derek’s arm and biting back groans whenever his dick brushes against the fabric of his boxers when he tries to get closer, it only takes Derek about three seconds to realize what’s going on.

Stiles hears Derek’s sharp intake of breath, knows Derek gets it now, and it doesn’t take more than another attempt at calling out his name for Derek to slide right up to him.

The feeling of Derek’s skin against his makes Stiles keen, back arching and his other hand coming to grab at Derek. He wants Derek closer, wrapped around him, touching him everywhere, bringing the relief he do desperately needs. He’s so lost in _lust_ , in _wanting_ , that it takes him a few seconds to realize Derek’s speaking to him.

“It’s okay,” Derek says, breath ghosting over Stiles’s parted lips. “It’s okay.”

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles pleads, trying to find the words to tell him to _get moving_ , not that he manages anything more than whimper.

Derek seems to get him, though, because he doesn’t waste anytime before flipping them over so he’s hovering above Stiles, arms bracketing his head.

“I’ve got you,” Derek promises.

Stiles tangles his fingers in Derek’s sleep shirt, tugging a little bit. “ _Off_.”

The need for bare skin on skin is overwhelming him right now and he can only hope that Derek will take care of it.

Derek does, lifting himself up only long enough so he can take his shirt off and throw it somewhere across the room. He also helps Stiles out of his own shirt and sleep pants, his hands running up and down Stiles’s sides, trying to calm him down, voice sweet and soft as Derek tells him everything will be okay.

Stiles chases the sound, nose bumping against Derek’s cheek, and then nuzzling at his stubble, breathing in the scent of him. He smells like the forest after it rains, and Stiles kind of wants to fit himself around Derek and never let go.

Stiles grazes his lips over the edge of Derek’s jaw instead, and wants so badly to kiss him, to finally find out what Derek tastes like. He makes an involuntary sound in the back of his throat, almost pleading, a sound that turns into a moan when Derek turns his head and brings their mouth together.

Their first kiss is surprisingly gentle and soft, with no space for the desperation Stiles has been feeling.

Stiles sighs into it, melts against Derek’s lips as they press against his own, and brings his hands up to tangle his fingers through Derek’s hair.

The first touch of Derek’s tongue against the seam of his lips makes him gasp, makes him open his mouth in surprise, makes him moan softly and pull Derek closer. He can taste the sleep on Derek’s mouth, the faint hint of minty toothpaste and something that’s just _Derek_.

He lets Derek control the pace of the kiss and allows himself to enjoy the feeling of Derek’s body pressed against his, though it’s not long after that he starts needing _more_.

“I need—,” Stiles pulls back, taking a deep breath, and failing to have words come to him. “I _need_ —”

“Yeah, I know,” Derek says then, placing kisses over Stiles’s lips, his chin, down his neck. “I know.”

Stiles holds on to Derek’s shoulders and lifts his hips off the bed when Derek hooks his fingers under the waistband of Stiles's boxers and slides them down past his legs, and Stiles is unbelievably glad to have the sticky material off of him.

It’s not a surprise to him when Derek’s eyes flash red though, knowing he must be smelling how slick Stiles is, how much he _wants_ this. Especially when second later Derek rids himself of his own clothes.

Stiles can hear the sound of fabric ripping, and when Derek runs a hand up Stiles's thigh before curling his fingers around Stiles’s hip, he can feel the sharp hint of Derek’s claws against his skin. 

Stiles feels a thrill at that, at knowing how close Derek is to losing control, although they’ve only just started. The thought doesn’t scare him as much as it turns him on, and he bucks his hips up involuntarily, smearing precome onto Derek’s abs.

Stiles pulls Derek towards him again, catching his lips in a kiss, and moaning against his mouth when Derek settles his weight down on top him, all warm skin and hard muscle.

Derek’s thumbs stroke lightly against his hips before he moves his hands up, fingers coming up to tease Stiles’s nipples, brushing over them with light, barely there touches that drive Stiles _crazy._ Derek moves his lips off of Stiles’s, placing biting kisses along his jaw and up towards his ear and then down the length of Stiles's neck, not hard enough to mark him but enough to send sparks of pleasure through his entire body, making his dick impossibly harder.

And this is nice, it _is_. Everything about it turns him on.  _  
_

But Stiles is so past needing _nice_.

What he needs is _Derek_. Derek’s _dick_ and Derek’s _knot_ and Derek _inside of him_.

He trails his hands down Derek’s chest, stopping to rub his fingers over Derek’s nipples and then scratches lightly through the hair just below Derek’s belly button. Derek’s breath hitches at that, the muscles on his stomach tensing, his forehead resting against Stiles’s as he watches Stiles’s hands move over his body.

And Stiles does the same thing, watching in fascination as he curls his fingers around the base of Derek’s dick, stroking him loosely until Derek’s completely hard.

He can’t see much in the dark room, but he can feel every inch of Derek’s cock as he jerks him off, his mouth watering and his own dick twitching at just how _big_ Derek feels in his hand.

He can’t wait to have Derek inside of him.

Stiles tells Derek that much, licking his lips and wrapping his fingers tighter around Derek.

“Derek, c’mon,” Stiles breathes out, trying to simultaneously pull him closer and push him away. “Need— I need you inside. Need your fingers, need your _knot_. So wet. Please. Please, _please_.”

Derek shifts back then, and Stiles revels in the way his eyes are dark and hooded, cheeks flushed and lips parted. He’s gorgeous.

And Stiles wants him.

 _Now_.

So he  turns over, getting on all fours, elbows propped underneath him and knees spread as wide as they can go, exposing himself to Derek’s eyes.

He doesn’t need to hear Derek’s low growl and him cursing under his breath to know what he looks like, to know what he’s doing to Derek, to know how Derek must be going crazy wanting to _claim_ and _mark_ and take what’s his.

Which works great for Stiles right now, to be honest, because he’s been needing to be fucked and tied since he woke up, sticky with heat.

Stiles arches his back and ducks his head, knowing Derek won’t be able to resist the invitation, and almost sobs in relief when he feels Derek shift right up to him, Derek’s hands on his hips, his knees tucked between Stiles’s, the hot line of his dick bumping against Stiles’s ass.

Stiles can’t help but moan at that **,** wanting Derek’s fingers in him, Derek’s cock, Derek’s knot, filling him up and stretching him open.

“Derek. Your fingers. My ass. _Right now,_ please,” he grinds out finally, rocking backwards.

Derek places his hands lightly on Stiles’s cheeks, thumbing around his hole, finger tracing the muscle but _not touching Stiles where he wants it._

“Do you need—,” Derek starts, only to be cut off by Stiles.

“Lube, yes,” Stiles pants, hips still moving, trying to get Derek to _do_ something with the fingers so close to Stiles’s opening.

“Okay,” Derek says, bending over to place a kiss to Stiles’s back before moving away.

He goes for the lube he must have strategically stashed between the mattress and the headboard before they went to bed in case Stiles’s heat came early, because as wet as Stiles is right now it’s still not enough for Derek to press into him without stretching him first.

At least not on Stiles’s first day of heat. That’ll only happen around day three or four, whenhis heat peaks, and then Derek will be able to get inside of him without having to waste time preparing him.

As it is, Stiles almost can’t take the slow burn of Derek’s lube coated fingers when Derek starts opening him up, everything too soft, too gentle. He appreciates Derek putting him first and _going slow_ but that’s not what Stiles he needs right now.

“‘M good,” Stiles says, rocking back onto Derek’s fingers. “I’m ready. I’m _so_ ready. Need your knot. Right. Fucking. _Now._ ”

Derek shushes him, and Stiles is about to curse at Derek for basically telling him to shut up, but all of his words get caught in his throat when Derek holds Stiles still with a hand on his hip and lines himself up against Stiles’s entrance.

Stiles’s mouth falls open in a silent moan as Derek finally,  _fucking finally_ presses in, eyes rolling to the back of his head, and cock dripping steadily at the sensation of Derek filling him up.

It only gets better from there, with Derek draping himself over Stiles’s back, mouthing at the back of his neck, nipping and kissing and licking every inch of skin he can get his mouth on.

All Stiles can do is hold on as Derek fucks into him, one hand on Stiles’s hip holding him in place and the other sliding up and down Stiles's sides and his chest, Derek's fingers stopping periodically to play with his nipples.

It’s _exactly_ what he needs, his body feeling hot all over, and he’s _so close_ to coming, he just needs that extra push. Stiles leans heavily on his left arm, bringing his shoulder down to rest against the bed and tries to get his right hand down to touch himself.

Before he can even get close however, Derek’s hand knocks his away, “Not yet.”

Stiles whimpers, partly because he needs to _get off_ already and partly because Derek speeds up his movements, the head of his cock hitting Stiles’s prostate dead on every other thrust.

“Fuck, D’rek,” Stiles keens, almost unable to form proper words. “Need you to do it. C’mon. Please. _Derek_.”

Derek growls low in his throat, and starts moving even faster, and then, right when Stiles is about to make a move to stroke himself again, he feels the beginning of Derek’s knot at the base of Derek’s dick, catching against Stiles's rim after every shallow thrust.

He moans loudly, fingers curling into the sheets almost painfully as every other nerve in his body tingles with anticipation.

Because this is _it_.

This is what he’s been waiting for, this is what he’s been _wanting_ ever since he first laid eyes on Derek.

Derek’s knot feels _huge_ , and hot, and swollen when it finally locks inside of him, tying them together, stretching Stiles out more than he’s ever been stretched before.

It feels _glorious_ , and only gets infinitely better when Derek stops being a fucking asshole and wraps his hand around Stiles’s dick, stroking hard and fast and in time with every small roll of his hips.

What tips him over the edge, though, is Derek’s voice in his ear, low and wrecked and _desperate,_ saying, “ _Stiles._ _Please_. _I need to—_ I want to _feel you._ I want _—_ ”.

Stiles thinks he blacks out as he finally spills over Derek’s fingers with Derek’s name on his lips and his muscles clenching tight around Derek’s knot.

Mostly because when he’s back to himself, Derek’s still fucking him. Or at least trying to, grinding his hips as much as he can despite them being knotted together, his words turning into whines and soft sounds of pleasure that he tries to hide against the side of Stiles’s neck.

“It’s okay, Derek,” Stiles says quietly, lifting up a hand so he can thread his fingers through Derek’s hair, yanking the strands a little and pulling him closer. “Come on, let go. I need it. I _want_ you to.”

Derek catches Stiles’s mouth in an uncoordinated, sloppy kiss right before he comes, teeth clamping down on Stiles’s bottom lip as he does, before soothing his tongue over the bite as he lets himself go. His thrusts slow to small circular movements as he spills inside Stiles, and Stiles has _never_ felt so full before. He’s a little surprised by how much he likes it—if he was more awake, it might have been enough to get him hard again.

Derek places wet and sloppy kisses over Stiles’s neck and shoulder as he turns them onto their sides, Stiles’s back to Derek’s chest, and as far away from the wet spot as they can manage. Neither of them says anything, too fucked out and sleepy to bother with words, just settling for curling themselves around each other, arms and legs all tangled together with Derek’s nose resting against the side of Stiles’s neck.

Stiles falls asleep with Derek still inside of him, with his bones feeling like mush, with a smile on his lips, and feeling better fucked than ever before.

It’s fucking _great_.

And he can’t wait to do it all over again tomorrow.

* * *

Derek wakes up all wrapped up with Stiles, _still naked_ , and with the smell of sex and jizz thick in the room. And despite asking Stiles to sleep with him the night before in case his heat came early, he hadn't expected it to happen.

He actually sort of feels a little guilty about how it took place. They hadn’t really had a chance to talk things over and make sure what was happening was okay, at least not without the influence of Stiles’s heat.

Derek untangles himself carefully, trying not to  jostle Stiles or think about how warm and good Stiles’s naked skin felt against his, because he knows that it’s really important for Stiles to get lots of rest during his heat week. You know, between the periods when he’s not hit by the uncontrollable urge to be knotted.

Rest is not the only thing Stiles needs, though, so Derek glances one more time at Stiles’s sleeping form in his bed before making his way to the kitchen.

He has breakfast to cook.

He grabs a pair of boxers from his drawers before leaving the bedroom and heading to the kitchen, figuring that if he needs to, he can just put on an apron while he cooks. More clothing really isn't necessary. 

Derek makes some of the same things as yesterday, eggs and sausage and toast, but instead of pancakes this time, he fries some bacon, figuring that both he and Stiles could use the extra protein.

Plus, Derek likes bacon. He doesn’t let himself have it all that often, but he reasons to himself that this counts as a special occasion. He also remembers Stiles saying he has a preference for meat during his heat weak, and so of _course_ Derek is going to follow through.

So he cooks, all the while thinking about ways to apologize to Stiles about not talking to him about what would happen once his heat surged.

He arranges everything on two plates when he’s done with breakfast, and takes it all on a tray (along with Stiles’s requested orange juice) straight into the bedroom.

It’s good timing too, because once he gets there, Stiles has just woken up. Stiles is propped against the headboard and scrubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hands, hair sticking everywhere, looking sleep tousled and content and _gorgeous_.

Derek can see the waistband of Stiles’s sleep pants peeking out from under the covers, which means he must have gotten dressed at some point before going back to bed. He can also see, and _smell_ , Stiles’s boxers still on the floor next to the bed. Along with Stiles’s shirt. And all of his clothes from last night.

Derek swallows hard.

And he doesn’t blush.

What he does instead is offer Stiles a small smile and get on the bed, placing the tray on top of it.

“Breakfast in bed?” Stiles asks, voice still rough from sleep, sounding so incredibly pleased it makes Derek preen a little. “Now this is something I could get used to.”

Derek makes a note of that for the next couple days, and hands Stiles his plate and some silverware.

And then blushes even more when Stiles starts eating. His ‘yummy’ noises and groans are pretty the same as the ones he’d heard last night.

Speaking of last night. He should probably broach the subject with Stiles regarding last night somehow, but Stiles speaks up before he can.

“I can already tell you’re freaking out about something,” Stiles says, giving Derek a long look. “And I bet it’s over nothing, so why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind.”

Derek tries to smile, but given that Stiles is still looking at him with concern, he’s willing to bet that it looks more like a grimace instead.

“I know—,” he starts, and then looks up into Stiles’s eyes before continuing. “I know that it was technically _you_ who woke _me_ up. But. I just needed to--I wanted to ask you if you were okay with it? How things happened? When we—”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Derek, that was probably the best sex I’ve ever had.” He grins cheekily and Derek can feel something warm pool low in his gut. “I was _definitely_ okay with it, _and_ I’m eagerly awaiting a repeat performance.”

Derek’s eyes widen. “Do you need—? Right _now_?”

Stiles laughs, loud and open, and shakes his head. “No, but it’s good to know you’d be willing. I don’t actually need to be knotted more than once during the first day. I just eat a lot, jerk off a couple of times, but that’s about it.”

“Oh,” Derek says weakly, because images of Stiles with his own hand wrapped around his dick are swirling through his mind.

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, picking up the last of the crisp strips of bacon and waving it around. “Thanks for this, by the way. And the juice. It goes a long way to helping me through this.”

Derek nods seriously. “Okay. And let me know if you need me for anything. At all. Whether it’s making you food, or going out to get you something, or, uh, a repeat of last night.”

Derek can practically feel the blood rushing to his ears and cheeks at that, but he feels like it’s important for him to say this, to let Stiles know that he’s okay with Stiles calling him for anything he might need, even sex. _Especially_ sex.

Stiles presses his lips together as if trying not to laugh at Derek’s awkwardness, loading both their plates back onto the tray as soon as he finishes eating.

“Derek, seriously,” Stiles starts, tilting his head to the side for Derek to follow as he gets up and goes to the kitchen. Derek remembers Stiles’s insistence on washing the dishes the previous day, and he doubts Stiles would let him get away with asking if he was up for the task.

He decides to just keep quiet about it and let Stiles do his thing.

"Don’t worry about last night. Neither of us are under any delusions about why we’re here—you absolutely have my complete consent for any and all sort of sex acts during heat week.”

Derek blushes even more at Stiles’s bluntness and tips his head down, agreeing with what Stiles just said. That _is_ why they’re both here after all.

“Okay,” Derek clears his throat. “That’s— It’s good to know. That I can— Yeah.”

Stiles stops rinsing one of the plates and turns to Derek, eyes bright and lips stretched in a grin. “And don’t worry Derek,  I will call you if I need _anything_ at all and I know you’ll come.” He waggles his eyebrows at Derek. “Pun intended.”

Derek doesn’t choke on his tongue.

He also doesn’t pretend to glare at Stiles when Stiles bursts out laughing, entire body rolling with it as Derek tries and fails to pretend he’s not thinking about what Stiles just implied.

One would even think _he_ is the one in heat by the amount of times he’s found himself thinking about sex. With Stiles.

So Derek leaves Stiles to the clean up with excuses he has to go do some work, almost tripping on his own feet when Stiles tells him to leave the door to his office open in case he needs Derek to give him a hand during the day.

Derek swallows hard.

He has a feeling this is going to be a long week.

They both spend the rest of the day much like they did yesterday—doing absolutely nothing.

You know, with the exception of Stiles sometimes getting this hitch in his breath and running to the guest bedroom, disappearing for around ten minutes at a time.

He always comes back looking loose-limbed and flushed, the smell of his own come and slick clinging to his skin, and it doesn’t take a genius to know what he’d been doing.

Derek thanks the heavens he made all the rooms in the apartment soundproof, because he doesn’t think he’d be able to keep his distance if he’d been able to hear Stiles jerking himself off.

As it is, he still feels like he should maybe offer his, well, _services_ again, but when he tries Stiles just waves him off and tells him it’s okay.

“I’ll take you up on that tomorrow though,” Stiles says as he slumps back on the couch, shirt riding up his stomach. “ _Definitely._ ”

* * *

Stiles wakes up on the morning of the second day of his heat splayed starfished on his stomach and feeling too hot for his own clothes—not to mention uncomfortable—and harder and considerably slicker than the day befor ~~e~~.

He’s still not wet enough that he won’t need a little lube to get things going and be able to take Derek’s cock and knot, but he’s a lot slicker than during his first day of heat. He’ll only really be able to take Derek’s knot without any sort of prep tomorrow—mostly because then he’d still be a little stretched from the first few days— and when his heat peaks, on the fourth day.

And, oh yeah, Derek’s hand is on his ass.

It’s _so_ fucking close to where he wants it, where he _needs_ it, that he really doesn’t understand why Derek isn’t inside him already.

He really needs Derek to be inside him.

And it’s not like they haven’t had this conversation already, like Stiles hasn’t already said he’s okay with this, like they both don’t know what they’re really doing here—making a _baby_.

So really, there’s _no excuse_ for Derek not to be fucking him into the mattress already.

Stiles pushes upwards, ass grinding into Derek’s hand as he arches up off the soft sheets, a sign clear sign that _things need to be happening_. A sign Derek notices, as his hand slips from kneading Stiles’s ass to actually brushing against his already drenched hole.

Stiles moans.

Only to have Derek hiss in response, “God, Stiles, you’re _so_ wet.”

If Stiles was capable of focusing on anything other than Derek touching him, he would probably hear that Derek sounds absolutely _wrecked_.

In reality, all he feels is how _empty_ he is, and that he really really wants to be knotted right fucking now.

Scratch that.

He _needs_ to be knotted right fucking now.

Derek’s rubbing lightly against his rim, teasing him leisurely as Stiles pants and arches his back even further, trying wordlessly to coax Derek’s fingers inside him.

“Stiles, God,” Derek grunts out finally, still teasing him slowly, touching him too lightly where he’s craving so much more. Derek leans over him, plastering against his back and Stiles can feel Derek’s nose just behind his ear. “Smell so good, _fuck_. Need to—want to be inside you. Is that—Can I?”

“God, yes,” Stiles arches his back even further in response, and moans loudly when the tip of Derek’s finger breaches his rim. “Derek, _please_.”

He can feel Derek mouthing at the back of his neck, and those light touches paired with Derek’s finger teasing his hole is _so much_ , yet not fucking enough.

He curls his arms under his pillow and rests his cheek on top of it, getting on his knees so his ass is further on display for Derek and sighs happily when Derek sinks his finger to the hilt inside him.

He’s lucid enough to try and speak, telling Derek that he “could have started before I woke up if you wanted.”

Only to keen when Derek fits a second finger alongside the first, thick and confident and _perfect._

Derek’s mouth drags across Stiles’s neck and cheek slowly, finally slotting against his own, licking and biting and sucking Stiles’s lips. Stiles is distracted enough by the taste and feel of Derek on his tongue that he almost doesn’t feel as Derek slides in a third finger, a bit coated with lube Derek must have grabbed from somewhere and Stiles’s own slick, stretching him further.

Derek continues to kiss him languidly as he pumps his fingers in and out of Stiles, scissoring them every now and then, making Stiles wetter. And when Derek brushes the pad of his middle finger lightly against his prostate, Stiles thinks that he’s never actually felt this _good_ in all the years he’s been having sex. Except for when he was with Derek last night.

And that makes Stiles wonder if having sex Derek will always be _this_ fucking great.

He really hopes so.

More so when Derek actually replaces his fingers with his cock, breaking the kiss so he can watch as he inches in _slowly,_ and starts fucking into Stiles, the blunt head of Derek’s dick dragging against that spot inside of him, making Stiles see _stars_ with every agonizingly steady thrust.

Stiles reaches a hand behind him, groping blindly for Derek’s hip or ass or _anything_ that Stiles can grab onto to make him go _harder_ , _faster,_ and just _more._

Derek eventually seems to get what Stiles is trying to tell him,probably because of the way Stiles finally manages to grab hold of one of his hands and practically drags him forward at the same time as he rocks back into Derek’s cock.

And, you know, also because Stiles says, gasping, “ _Faster_.”

No one’s to say Derek can’t take directions.

And no one’s to say he doesn’t rise above expectations.

Especially not Stiles, who lets go of Derek’s handin order to hold onto the headboard as he gets the breath fucked out of him.

And when Derek knots him? _Fuck_.

Stiles knows the further into heat week he gets, the better this feels. Or at least that’s how it’s supposed to work; he’s never had the chance to go throughitwith an alpha before.

But this?

This feels fucking _amazing_.

So fucking _good_ that it only takes Derek’s hand on his dick, Derek's knot locking inside of him as he comes, Derek’s lips and teeth on the side of his neck, and Stiles is _coming_ , spilling over Derek’s fingers and over the sheets.

It leaves Stiles breathless, boneless, fucked stupid and satisfied.

It leaves him pliant, at Derek's mercy, and, an hour later when Stiles's heat surges again, when he wakes himself up to find he's been rutting against the dirty sheets, when Derek grabs him by the hip and keeps him in place as Derek starts fucking into him again.

Getting knotted the second time in less than two hours feels even better than Stiles ever thought it would, and he passes out not long after Derek arranges them both on their side, curling around him protectively and putting a hand low on Stiles’s stomach.

And that's what he thinks about, during the four times later in the day he needs to jerk off-the memory of Derek at his back, his breath hot and wet against Stiles's neck, his knot still inside of him.

And, well, Stiles guesses it could be worse.

At least he's not chafing.

* * *

Derek told himself he wouldn’t do a lot of work during Stiles’s heat week, but Stiles needs a hell of a lot more sleep than he does, so what is he supposed to do? Watch Stiles sleep?

No thanks.

He hasn’t reached those levels of creepy yet, no matter what Erica likes to say.

He also can’t work at his desk in his room anymore because Stiles is _right there_ , smelling amazing and snuffling adorably into his pillow.

He figures though, that since they’ve mostly been eating in bed or on the living room couch, he can get away with moving all his work stuff out to the dining table as he needs it.

He doesn’t realize quite how much work he was doing till he finds himself on the third day of Stiles’s heat, with pretty much all the contents of his desk spread out over the surface of his dining table.

It’s a fucking mess.

Oh well.

He’s already knotted Stiles once today, a few hours ago and he can hear Stiles on his laptop now, typing rapidly, and he wonders idly if Stiles is writing his next book.

He plays around with some tabs on his laptop, not sure if he wants to keep working or go check on Stiles, his need to provide and take care of the omega in his home burning like an itch under his skin, making him restless.

He’s almost grateful for the distraction when his phone buzzes, figuring that it’s Erica or Isaac texting him to check in. They’ve each sent him a text nearly every day, just asking if everything’s going okay and if he or Stiles need anything.

And while Derek’s not one to feel all warm and fuzzy inside, the idea of his pack thinking about him and offering to help provide for Stiles definitely makes him feel just that.

He unlocks his phone after seeing that it is, in fact, a text from Erica. Which probably means Boyd’s peering over her shoulder and waiting to read what Derek sends back.

 **From Erica:** So how’s the baby daddy?

Derek snorts.

And then gulps.

 **To Erica:** Not the baby daddy yet.

 **From Erica:** As far as you know. He could be.

Derek doesn’t let himself hope, doesn’t let himself think about the possibility that Stiles might already be carrying his child. At least not yet.

 **To Erica:** Stiles is fine. We’re both working right now.

 **From Erica:** Is that what the kids are calling it these days? ;)

He’s not blushing.

Really, he isn’t.

And, luckily, Erica doesn’t bother waiting for response to that.

 **From Erica:** As you were, o alpha my alpha. Say hi to Bambi for me.

Derek shakes his head, lips twitching up at Erica’s new nickname for Stiles.

Especially because of how well it fits, with Stiles’s wide brown eyes, always bright.

He’s about to text her back when he sees Stiles come out of the bedroom, watching as he makes his way to the kitchen and grabs a glass of water, downing it in one go. He hears Stiles curse under his breath then, and wonders if Stiles had gotten writer’s block again.

He figures that it’s either that, or Stiles’s heat is surging again.

His eyes close and his nostrils flare instinctively then, and Derek stands up, ready to make his way over to Stiles.

It proves to be the best idea he had all day when a second later he hears Stiles’s voice, sounding breathless, “ _Derek_!”

He’s at Stiles’s side in a second, grabbing him around the waist, and making his way over to the couch, choosing it purely for its proximity.

Soon enough, Stiles is sprawled over the couch in the living room, cheeks flushed and pupils blown, hands curling and uncurling into fists. He looks half out of his mind, something Derek knows will only get worse in the next day or two.

“What do you need?” Derek asks, already reaching for the hem of Stiles’s shirt and helping him pull it up and off.

“Just— I—,” Stiles stops, licks his lips, shakes his head and makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. Derek helps Stiles slide his pajama pants off, hooking his fingers in the waistband and yanking them down when Stiles arches his back.

In the open living room he has the opportunity to really look at Stiles naked, to take in the lean planes of his chest and abs, the delicate curve of his throat, and the trail of hair under his belly button Derek wants to follow with his tongue.

Derek doesn’t protest when Stiles grabs him around the shoulders and maneuvers him so that he’s seated on the couch and Stiles is straddling him, knees on either side of Derek’s thighs and leaking cock pressing against Derek’s abs.

Derek can smell how slick he is, can feel a bit sliding down between Stiles's thighs and onto his lap, soaking him with it, marking him with Stiles's scent.

Derek's fingers reach for it, trailing down Stiles's back, his ass, until he can feel the slickness, coats his fingers with it, and-

And gets his arm slapped away as soon as he tries to press a digit inside. He looks up at Stiles, horrified, afraid that he did something wrong, only to see Stiles looking back at him, eyes hooded and mouth parted.

"There's enough—," Stiles tells him, gasping. "You don't need to. Just—ugh, here let me."

Derek bites back a groan when he feels Stiles's hand close around his dick, pumping twice before guiding it to his hole. Holding on to Stiles's hips is all Derek can do as Stiles starts slowly sliding down onto his dick until he’s fully seated in Derek’s lap.

Stiles stays like that for about five seconds before bracing his hands on Derek's shoulders and shifting, using his thighs to help him move nearly all the way off, and then back down onto Derek’s dick. Stiles is all hot and slick and _tight_ around him, _riding_ him, _taking what he wants from him,_ and Derek can feel his knot forming almost immediately.

It does things to him, the way Stiles takes charge of things most times, considering he himself is a little hesitant about being in control, especially in a situation like this. So knowing Stiles is not afraid to go after what he wants and get what he needs from Derek is a good thing. A _great_ thing even.

The way Stiles is straddling him puts Derek’s eyes in line with Stiles’s chest, so naturally he curls an arm around Stiles’s waist, moving him closer so he can get his mouth on Stiles’s nipples.

The minute his lips close around one of them Stiles moans, long and loud, his movements becoming faster, jerkier, more erratic.

Derek doesn’t stop though, biting back a smirk as the scent of arousal grows even thicker in the room, nipping and licking and sucking at Stiles’s nipples, alternating between them until they’re red and puffy.

He gives them one last lick before looking up at Stiles, curling his fingers into Stiles’s hair and pulling him down to bite and lick and his lips instead.

Stiles groans against his mouth, a sound Derek swallows with his tongue, and only speeds up his movements, fucking himself back onto Derek's cock as much as Derek's knot will allow.

Stiles also not so subtly tries to rub his chest against Derek's, arching his back at the same time he drags Derek even closer by his shoulders, making little pleased and hurt sounds when that still doesn't get him what he wants.

Derek just keeps on kissing him, hands going from Stiles's hair to run down his arms, his sides, fingers inching up his chest. _Teasing him_ , not giving in, at least not right this second.

Stiles whines.

And fucks himself harder on Derek's cock, nails digging into Derek's skin, teeth clamping down over Derek's lower lip.

Derek can feel himself getting close, and finally acquiesces, pulling back despite a whimper from Stiles and ducking his head to bite at one of Stiles’s nipples.

Stiles stills in response, thighs and hips no longer moving, and when Derek turns to the side and rubs his stubble against that same nipple, Stiles jerks, clenching around Derek before coming untouched.

That's all it takes for Derek to follow, tying them together as he tips over the edge, cheek resting right over Stiles's heart.

They stay like that for a while, catching their breaths, until Stiles seems to come back to himself from his heat induced daze, wriggling a little in Derek's lap and biting down on his bottom lip at the way the knot tugs at his rim.

"Well," Stiles says, voice cracking. "I don't think we thought this one through. This isn't the best position to be knotted together."

He's looking at Derek, lips curled up.

Derek offers a small smile back, telling him to, "Wrap your arms around my shoulders. I can try to get us to lay down on the couch."

It takes a bit of careful maneuvering, with Stiles hiding a smile against the side of Derek's neck, but soon they manage to get comfortable, Derek resting against the arm of the couch and Stiles leaning forward against him. It's still not the most comfortable position, but this way they both manage to stretch their muscles a little.

Plus, it feels kind of nice.

Especially because Stiles dozes off after a while, head on Derek’s shoulder. He blinks wearily when Derek’s knot starts to go down, doesn’t protest when Derek move them so they’re both lying down, with Stiles trapped between Derek’s chest and the back of the couch.

But he does make a sound of complaint when that causes Derek’s cock to slide out, wrinkling his nose when a bit of Derek’s come follows, leaking from his abused hole.

“I should probably clean up,” Stiles sighs, voice thick.

Derek swallows, acutely aware of the _smell_ of the two of them together, of _sex_ , of his come mixed with Stiles’s slick.

It makes him _want_.

Which is probably why the words are out of his mouth before he makes any conscious decision to _say them_.

“I could take care of that for you.”

Stiles’s eyebrows raise, but he offers Derek a tentative smile before saying, “Thanks,” and untangling his legs from Derek’s so he can get up.

Derek doesn’t move.

Derek doesn’t move because when he offered to clean them up, he didn’t exactly mean he’d do it with warm wet _washcloths_.

Something he doesn’t think Stiles gets, because he starts frowning in confusion when Derek doesn’t get up.

“I don’t—,” Derek starts, and he can feel the blood rush to his cheeks. “That’s not what I meant.”

Stiles’s frown deepens. “What did you mean?”

“I mean,” Derek says, squirming uncomfortably. “I mean with— I could use my mouth. If that’s something you’d— If you’re okay with that.”

Derek knows he’s probably red from his hairline down to his neck, but he can’t help but want to _taste_ the place where Stiles smells so much like the two of them.

He can’t help but want to explore Stiles’s body, to make him feel good, to give him pleasure from something other than his knot.

And Stiles seems to be up for it, if judging by the way his breath hitches and the smell of cinnamon curls over Derek’s senses, making his mouth water.

“I’m— Yeah,” Stiles nods, licking his lips. “If that’s something you want to do. I’d be okay with that. More than okay with that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Stiles says, heart beating steady.

They end up with Stiles slumped on his back on the couch, ass almost hanging off the edge of it, and Derek kneeling on the floor between his knees.

Derek can smell him better like this, the scent sweet and intoxicating to him.

He nuzzles against the soft skin of Stiles’s inner thigh, hands slowly sliding up until he’s cupping Stiles’s asscheeks so he can part them.

Stiles makes a choke-up noise at the first touch of Derek’s tongue against his rim, not that Derek pays that much attention to it.

He’s surrounded by the scent of him, the taste of the both them exploding on his tongue as he licks at Stiles’s hole, making soft _hungry_ sounds as he eats Stiles out.

Stiles has a hand tangled in his hair, gripping tightly, keeping him in place as Derek takes his time cleaning him up of come and slick. The other is at his dick, the sounds of Stiles jerking himself off loud in the empty room, only making Derek want to redouble his efforts and lick Stiles harder, tongue him open, rim him until he’s breathless and begging and crying and making a fucking mess of himself again.

Stiles doesn’t actually cry, but he does beg, nails scratching at Derek’s scalp and fingers pulling at Derek's hair as he gasps and moans and pushes his ass back against Derek’s face.

Derek growls, deep in his chest, right against Stiles’s opening.

And makes a mental note that apparently Stiles has no problems with this side of him coming out to play when that’s all it takes for his body to go completely still as he comes all over his chest and stomach.

Come Derek is quick to clean up, licking at Stiles’s belly and chest and sensitive cock, sucking Stiles’s fingers into his mouth, making sure not to miss anything and enjoying the way Stiles’s scent goes warm in contentment.

Derek is good to leave him resting for a while, basking in the afterglow, but then Stiles opens his eyesand grins, a sharp curl of his red and swollen lips, eyes going to Derek’s still hard cock hanging between his legs.

And then he’s kneeling on the couch and turning around, spreading his legs, ass in full display and really fucking close to Derek’s face.

“Come on,” Stiles says, eyes wicked, wiggling his hips. “You don’t want to waste the opportunity.”

“I’m gonna have to clean you up again,” Derek says, voice cracking, fangs dropping a little at the thought.

“I should hope so,” Stiles laughs, cheeks flushed. “Or you can always just plug me later.”

Derek goes light headed at that.

He’s pretty sure he actually sways a little in place, because the sudden image of Stiles being plugged while full of Derek’s come is like a punch to the gut.

“Are you—,” Derek gulps. “ _Really_?”

Stiles raises an eyebrow at him. “Do you have a plug?”

Derek nods, cheeks flushing. “Yeah, I— Yes.”

He bought one a couple of months back, but between handling his pack and starting his new project at the firm he hasn’t had the time to try it.

Now he’s kind of glad for it.

Especially when Stiles grins at him and says, “Then yes, I’m sure.”

“Fuck,” Derek curses, taking himself in hand and stepping forward. “ _Fuck_.”

“Just waiting for you, big guy.”

Derek curses again, grabbing Stiles by the hips with one hand and positioning himself at his hole with the other.

One of the wonders of heat is that the omega doesn’t feel as sore as he would if he was having sex at any other time, making it possible for him to be knotted as many times as he needs without having to worry about feeling pain.

Derek still goes slowly, though, burying his face against the back of Stiles’s neck as he presses inside.

Only to pull off as soon as a thought occurs to him, running a palm over Stiles’s back at his whine of distress.

“You don’t want me to knot you when we’re like this,” Derek tells him. “It’s not gonna be comfortable for either of us.”

Stiles makes a face at that, pushing at Derek’s shoulders until he’s sitting on the couch again. But this time, instead of straddling him, Stiles sits down on his lap, his back to Derek’s chest.

That’s how Derek knots him, tying them together, and that’s how they stay for the next forty-five minutes or so, with Derek only moving to throw the quilt he always leaves on the back of the couch over their naked bodies.

At some point Stiles even turns on the TV and gets on Netflix, settling back more heavily against Derek’s chest as they start watching _Orange Is The New Black._

Derek watches the TV and tries not to think of how comfortable this all feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And once again, here’s the [Settle Down 'Verse Breakdown](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/sdch) in case you need it; now with a brief Heat Weak Breakdown in case you were wondering how our version works.
> 
> Prepare yourself for Heat Sex Part 2 next Friday, **June 20th around 5pm EST**.


	7. When I’m with you baby, I go out of my head.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles squints at the alarm clock on the bedside table, and notices that it’s just after 2pm. Apparently, he slept for over twelve hours last night.
> 
> He smirks to himself. That’s what happens after being knotted several times in one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEAT SEX PART TWO WOOT!
> 
> Chapter title from [Just Can’t Get Enough by Depeche Mode](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_6FBfAQ-NDE). And as usual, here’s the [Settle Down 'Verse Breakdown](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/sdch) in case you need it.
> 
> xoxo,  
> J & P

Derek doesn’t know if Stiles is being difficult on purpose, or if he’s _really_ out of it. Because Derek has been trying to get him to eat for about ten minutes now, and besides gulping down a large glass of juice, Stiles has been completely uncooperative.

What he _has_ been doing however, is making sure that Derek knows that he needs something else.

That something being Derek’s dick in his ass.

Or at least that’s what Derek is assuming, given the way Stiles keeps arching his back and trying to go for his dick, eager hands moving over Derek’s chest and stomach and ass before he tries to wrap one around Derek’s cock.

Derek’s already knotted him three times today, since they never really got out of bed, and he honestly doesn’t know how Stiles isn’t passed out right now. He’s barely eaten all day, napping _briefly_ between one fuck and the next and then waking up, wetter than before and rutting against the sheets.

He’s been trying his best to keep them both hydrated and fed, not that Stiles has been very gracious about accepting anything from him that doesn’t end in an orgasm. He doesn’t know if this is normal for heat week exactly, never having spent one with an omega before, but he sure as hell isn’t going to ask Isaac about it.

The only time Stiles seems lucid enough is when Derek’s knot is tying them together—that is, if he doesn’t fall asleep right after they come.There’s also the few minutes after Derek slides out of him, but only long enough so Stiles can take a bathroom break or clean himself up as best as he can with the washcloth and warm water Derek leaves near the bed—that is, again, if he doesn’t end up falling asleep.

“Come on, Stiles,” Derek murmurs, tracing Stiles’s bottom lip with a peach slice. “I need you to eat something.”

Stiles wrinkles his nose, turning away from the fruit in favor of mouthing at Derek’s jaw, wanting to get to his lips. He’s trying to rock up against Derek, the hard line of his dick sliding against Derek’s stomach, slicking it with precome, making this whole thing a lot more difficult than it already is.

“Stiles,” Derek tries again, pressing the food against Stiles’s lips.

“ _D’rek_ ,” Stiles whines back, eyes blown, _still_ not making any moves to eat anything.

“Fine,” Derek sighs, mock-glaring. “More for me then.”

Derek takes a slice of the peach, placing it between his teeth, tongue coming out to lick some of the juice, when he sees Stiles _finally_ eyeing the fruit with the kind of focus he usually reserves for Derek’s dick.

Or rather, he’s eying Derek’s _lips_ where they’re stretched around the peach, undoubtedly sticky and shiny with juice from the fruit.

Derek blinks.

He can make this work in his favor.

He dips his head, tracing Stiles’s lips with the peach slice, lips curling up around the fruit in a pleased grin while Stiles moans and sticks his tongue out to taste. He stays where he is, peach between his teeth, glad to see Stiles chasing after the taste, wrapping his own lips around the slice, sucking at it, letting out little sounds of pleasure that go straight to Derek’s dick.

When Stiles finally takes a bite and starts chewing at his half of the fruit Derek rewards him by grinding downwards just once, _finally_ giving Stiles the friction he’s been so desperate for.

Stiles _keens_ , arching his back and grinding up into Derek before swallowing the last of his fruit. He blinks up at Derek in confusion when Derek doesn’t keep moving, though, making a hurt sound in the back of his throat.

Derek just grabs another slice, showing it to Stiles, and smiles when Stiles’s mouth falls openimmediately, silently asking for another piece.

Yep, Derek can totally work with this.

They keep that up until all the fruit is gone, both of their lips and chins messy with juice, only making their kisses sweeter as Derek finally presses inside and starts fucking into Stiles, knotting him for the fourth time that day.

Later, after another brief nap, Derek tries it with strawberries, and is pleased when it works just as well as before.

He’s never going to be able to eat peaches or strawberries without being at least half hard probably ever again.

Oh well.

It’s a small price to pay.

* * *

Stiles wakes up on the fifth day of his heat, finally thinking clearly.

Well, _clearer_.

The last day had been a blur of sex and some sweet fruit, and he can still feel the sticky remnants of the juice as well as the pleasantly sore ache of Derek’s knot inside of him.

He feels a long line of heat next to him and turns his head to see Derek on his stomach, mouth parted and fast asleep. His hair is messy and sticking out in all directions, like he slept on it wet, and Stiles bemoans the fact that the bedsheets start right above the swell of his (fucking perfect) ass.

Stiles squints at the alarm clock on the bedside table, and notices that it’s just after 2pm. Apparently, he slept for over twelve hours last night.

He smirks to himself. That’s what happens after being knotted several times in one day.

He notices a huge plate next to the clock, piled high with what looks like two of the meatball subs from the sandwich place Derek likes that delivers, as well as a couple bottles of water, a glass of orange juice and a huge bag of chips.

He looks back down at Derek, a rush of warmth and fondness filling him as he figures Derek must have woken up before Stiles and prepared all of this before going back to sleep, and shakes his head.

He got pretty lucky with this one.

He gets out of the bed slowly, stretching as he goes and enjoying how it feels to be upright and moving around after over a day of being in bed. He eats sitting cross-legged on the floor, scarfing down one and a half sandwiches, the entire bag of chips and finishes all the drinks Derek left him.

He’s not exactly _full_ when he finishes, but he also doesn’t want to be uncomfortable, so he leaves half the sandwich on the table and cleans up the mess he made. He figures what he doesn’t eat now, he can eat later. Or Derek will.

Once _that’s_ all taken care of, he starts to notice how sticky he is from whatever fruit Derek fed to him yesterday and from his own sweat, and the flecks of dried come on his stomach and between his legs Derek didn’t manage to clean up.

He wrinkles his nose in disgust, trying to ignore that little part of himself that’s immensely pleased by still being marked that way.

Stiles heads to Derek’s bathroom, figuring that he can get a quick shower in before he and Derek get to round who-even-knows-anymore.

He’s already feeling the familiar burn of his heat when he gets under the shower, hot water feeling lukewarm against his feverish and sensitive skin.

He washes himself quickly but thoroughly, curling his fingers around his dick when the scent of Derek’s body wash and shampoo fills his nose and makes his cock twitch in interest.

He flashes back to the previous day, bits of it sticking out through the haze of sex and heat and pleasure, and he zeroes in on the way Derek’s mouth and lips had looked stretched around the fruit he had fed Stiles. His lips had been slick and pink and _perfect_ , and Stiles moans at the thought of them around his dick.

Not that he thinks he’ll ever get that, considering they’re only here and fucking so Stiles can get pregnant.

But it’s nice to fantasize about Derek’s mouth around his cock, Derek’s tongue licking at the head and slit, Derek’s cheeks hollowing as he sucks Stiles deep.

It’s _more_ than nice. In fact, it’s so good that it only takes about four strokes for Stiles to come, biting down on his bottom lip to keep himself from calling out Derek’s name.

Because that’s all he needs, Derek walking in on him while he’s jerking off and thinking of Derek sucking him off.

He gets out slowly, knees a little week, and pats himself down with one of Derek’s fluffy towels a little.

His heat makes his skin extremely sensitive to most fabrics, and after running the towel through his hair a couple times, he leaves it hanging in the bathroom, figuring that if he walks around a bit, he’ll be dry enough to be able to slide back into bed.

You know, after he wakes Derek up and tells him to change the sheets.

What he _doesn’t_ expect, however, is for Derek to be awake when he gets back, sitting up against the headboard, eyes glassy and hooded and pinned in Stiles’s direction like he heard everything that just happened.

He sees Derek’s nostrils flare a little as he scents the room, and his heart stutters when he watches Derek’s eyes narrow as he gets closer.

Stiles doesn’t stop walking, though.

Instead he moves with purpose, but slowly, so Derek can see exactly what he’s doing and stop him if he feels like it.

Stiles straddles Derek, preening when Derek immediately grabs on to his waist and doesn’t make any moves at all to push him away, rubbing his thumbs against Stiles’s hipbones and burying his nose where Stiles’s neck meets his shoulder.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek breathes out.“Smell so good.”

Derek’s kissing and licking along his collarbone, hips making aborted movements upwards. Stiles grinds down against him for a moment, before the world spins and he finds himself on his back with Derek looming over him.

So much for changing the sheets.

And apparently washing himself with Derek’s things leads to more sex.

Good to know.

Derek brings their mouths together, lavishing Stiles with sucking, biting kisses as his hands roam all along Stiles’s body—up his flank and down his chest, stopping to pinch and tease his nipples.

Stiles feels more than hears Derek’s groan against his lips when he slides his hand down and finds Stiles’s hole, already wet and slick for him. Stiles loses himself in the feeling of Derek over him, the feeling of Derek in him, and the taste of Derek on his lips.

It takes very little time for Derek to start fucking into him, Stiles being able to enjoy it since his heat isn’t overwhelming him; he’sactually able to keep track of what’s happening.

Like the noises Derek makes whenever he presses into Stiles, the tight grip he has on Stiles’s hips as he holds him in place, the sharp edges of his teeth as he nips along Stiles’s neck, the feeling of Derek’s knot growing inside of him as he comes right after Stiles being tipped over the edge.

He still ends up falling asleep, though, not having enough energy to keep himself awake after having sex with Derek. But unlike yesterday, he’s lucid when he wakes up, and opens his eyes to Derek staring at him intently.

He presses his lips together to keep himself from telling Derek just how _creepy_ that is, but he figures the way he startles and his heartbeat jumps a little shows that just fine.

Derek’s lips turn down. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, big guy,” Stiles pats him on the shoulder. “Is there anything you need?”

Stiles feels kind of weird asking him that question, especially when Derek’s still inside of him, but he figures there must be a reason why Derek had his eyes locked on his face.

Unless Stiles didn’t actually clean himself up as thoroughly as he first thought and has dried jizz somewhere on his face.

He doesn’t think that’s the case, though, judging by the way Derek’s cheeks start to turn pink and his eyes cut to the nightstand, the line of his shoulders tensing.

“I— We talked about—,” Derek starts, stops, licks his lips, tries to pretend his cheeks don’t get redder. “You mentioned being okay with—If I wanted to use a plug on you.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, mouth dropping open in surprise.

“Is that not— Aren’t you comfortable with that anymore?”

Derek’s frowning now, but looking like he’d back off if Stiles so much as told him that yes, he’s uncomfortable.

Not that he _is_ , not really.

It’s the opposite of that, actually.

He’d very much be into the idea of letting Derek plug him, filling him up with his come, making sure nothing leaks out and ensuring that Stiles gets pregnant.

Since, you know, Stiles getting knocked up is kind of the whole point.

“No, no,” Stiles shakes his head, offering Derek a small smile. “I’m still okay with that. Definitely. You can plug me any time you want.”

“You sure?” Derek asks, and Stiles feels the way Derek’s dick twitches in interest.

He tries not to squirm.

“I’m sure,” Stiles tells him. “I’m just not cool with wearing it for more than a couple of hours.”

“That’s okay,” Derek says quickly. “You don’t— Whatever you’re okay with.”

“You can go grab it then,” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows. “I wanna see it.”

Derek does, opening the nightstand drawer and reaching inside, coming back with a silicone butt plug.

And Stiles is pretty sure he’s gaping like an idiot.

Because when Derek told him he had a plug, Stiles thought it’d be something large and black and boring.

But it’s _not_.

Aside from the large part, Stiles got it all wrong.

The plug Derek is holding is obviously new, since it’s still sealed tight in its original packaging, but instead of being black it’s _purple_. And not just that, but it’s purple and _sparkly_.

As in, _with glitter on it_.

Derek blushes even deeper, brows furrowing and lips thinning as if he _refuses_ to be made fun of about his choice in sex toys.

He even goes as far as saying, “It’s a quality toy. It had a lot of positive reviews.”

Stiles blinks at him.

And lasts about five seconds before he bursts out laughing, entire body shaking with it.

Which ends up being kind of interesting, considering Derek’s still inside of him.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says, pressing his lips together when he sees the filthy look Derek is sending his way. “Really, I am. It’s just— It’s _purple_. And _sparkly_.”

Derek glares, entire face red. “It’s also—”

“Quality, right,” Stiles waves a hand in front of his face, still chuckling. “It’s good to know you check reviews before buying sex toys off the internet.”

Derek ignores him in favor of picking at the packaging and peeling the tape off the edges.

Stiles finds the way that the tips of Derek’s ears turn even redder than the blush on his cheeks _terribly_ endearing.

So he refrains from saying anything else about how _hilarious_ all this is, settling for watching Derek finish fiddling with first the plastic packaging, and then the actual plug.

“I’m gonna have to go wash it first,” Derek says hesitantly, since that means he’ll have to pull out and go to the bathroom. “It shouldn’t take long though.”

“That’s alright,” Stiles says, and then can’t help but add, smirking, “Want me to keep my legs up until you’re back? I hear it helps with conception.”

Derek’s face twists as if he’s in pain, and next thing Stiles knows Derek’s pulling out and arranging Stiles so his hips are propped up, placing three pillows under his back.

The unimpressed look he gives Stiles at that kind of makes Stiles want to laugh again, but the sound gets swallowed up when Derek turns around and starts walking, bare ass in full view.

Stiles would like to write an ode to that ass. And also possibly a thank you letter to Derek’s personal trainer.

And then Derek’s walking _back,_ and Stiles’s eyes linger over his chest and abs and _face_ and he sighs.Maybe Derek’s parents should get a letter too.

Derek’s eyes, for his turn, lazily take in the entire expanse of Stiles’s body sprawled over the bed before stopping at his hips and ass.

Stiles can feel he’s leaking a little, but doesn’t know if Derek can see it from where he’s standing. He can certainly scent it, though,judging by how fast he gets back on the bed, kneeling right between Stiles’s thighs, clean toy in hand.

“Can I?” Derek asks, one hand coming to rest lightly on Stiles’s hip.

Stiles wiggles a bit in place, spreading his legs wider, before saying, “Be my guest.”

He bites down on his bottom lip as Derek starts to slide in the plug, breath hitching as he feels his body stretch around it. It’s nowhere near the size of Derek’s knot but it manages to make him feel full enough for now.

“Okay?” Derek looks up at him, thumb rubbing circles against Stiles’s hip.

“Yeah,” Stiles breathes out, clenching around the plug experimentally.

The action makes him shudder, but he doesn’t feel any discomfort from the toy.

It kind of feels really good, actually.

So good he loses himself for a bit there, eyes closing and mouth dropping open, and he totally understands why Derek would have his own plug.

But when he opens his eyes to tell him that much, it’s to find Derek’s attention already on him.

Derek is looking at him with what might by fondness, or maybe gratitude, before licking his lips, “So food or nap first?”

Stiles stretches, and contemplates sitting up to eat. That doesn’t really sound like something he wants to do right now.

Instead, he grabs the pillows from under him, throws them aside, and flips over onto his stomach, reveling in the sharp intake of breath he hears from Derek when that leaves his ass and Derek’s (shiny, sparkly, purple) plug on display.

“Definitely nap first,” he mumbles, before wiggling a little and squeezing the pillow, already close to dozing.

“I’ll wake you up in a few hours so we can eat, then,” Derek says, voice cracking.

“Sounds good to me.”

Stiles doesn’t wake up to the smell of food, though.

No, sir.

He wakes up to something _better_.

That something better being his entire body tingling, his dick hard, and Derek’s fingers brushing against his cheeks as he plays with the plug.

He gasps and pushes his ass back, blinking and looking over at Derek who’s pushing the plug in and out of him slowly, with an almost hypnotized look on his face.

Stiles can feel himself getting slicker by the second, Derek’s come still inside of him making the slide of the plug even smoother than before.

And suddenly the toy is not enough anymore, Stiles desperately wanting Derek to be inside of him again, fill him up even more, make him wet and dirty with it.

So he gets up on his hands and knees, Derek letting go of the plug so he can move, and presents himself much like he did the first night of his heat.

Derek’s sharp intake of breath brings a smile to Stiles's face, and it doesn’t take long for him to feel Derek’s dick bumping against the swell of his ass, hard and he only thrusts twice before coming inside of Stiles, making him even slicker but doing nothing for Stiles's hard on.

Until, of course, Derek reaches around him, jerking him off fast and tight as his knot presses right against Stiles’s prostate. He comes like that, with Derek’s hand on him and his muscles clenching around Derek’s knot.

And then later, when Derek’s knot goes down and Derek plugs him _again_ , Stiles knows that they did it.

That there’s _no way at all_ that this didn’t work.

He feels it deep in his bones and spreading over his body, an awareness that wasn’t there before, and there are no doubts in his mind that he’s pregnant.

With _Derek’s_ child.

* * *

Stiles’s heat starts to wind down on day six, and Derek has to admit he kind of misses fucking Stiles over three times a day.

He thinks it’s mostly because, before all of this, he hadn’t had partner-assisted orgasms for, well, a very long time. His attraction to Stiles and the feel of Stiles under him and around him also might have helped.

You know, might.

He’s on the table in the dining room again, since Stiles passed out over their (sadly only one) knotting session this morning and he found himself with not a lot to do. He’s finally finished with the blueprint he was supposed to be working on; the one that’s not actually due for another month.

He’s had brief texting conversations with both Boyd and Isaac, making sure that they’re okay as well as letting them know that everything’s good with him. And that everything’s also good with Stiles, since he knows Boyd is keeping Lydia updated on what’s going on.

It’s a good thing that she worries and demands to be kept informed, it’s a sign of a strong pack.

By the time he’s finished sending emails to a couple of his colleagues and clients, he can hear Stiles shuffling around in the bedroom, taking a gulp of the water and biting into the apple Derek left there for him.

He scents the air around him briefly, and can’t help how his heart sinks at the fact that Stiles no longer smells as much like _Derek_ and _slick_ and _DerekandStiles_.

He can’t fight the urge in him to fix that.

He makes his way over to the bedroom, and stops dead in his tracks at the door at the sight of Stiles’s sprawled over his sheets, flushed, with messy hair and swollen lips.

Stiles opens his eyes then, and Derek’s breath catches when he sees how his pupils are blown, only a single, thin ring of honey gold around dark irises.

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles breathes out, reaching out a hand. “I need you to—”

Derek’s by his side before Stiles can finish saying the words, hands sliding up Stiles’s side and then down to his hips before settling over his ass.

“I’ve got you,” Derek murmurs when Stiles pushes back into his hand, moving them around until they’re in a comfortable position for Stiles to be knotted.

Derek knows that this is probably the last time Stiles will need to have sex, with his heat winding down slowly until it’s all but gone tomorrow. He’s not as sensitive as he was yesterday, and as Derek’s fingers find Stiles’s hole he can tell he’s also not as slick and open as he’s been for the past few days.

Stiles still makes the same sweet sounds as he’s getting fucked, though, little soft moans and gasps that Derek swallows with his lips, kissing him slow and deep.

He also falls asleep a few minutes after Derek knots him, something Derek wonders if Stiles does whenever he has sex with someone or if it’s just because of how tiring heat week is for him.

Derek watches him as he sleeps, lips tipping up whenever Stiles’s brows furrow as he snuffles, snuggling deeper into the pillows.

The room smells strongly of them and sex, and Derek can’t help but take a deep breath every few minutes, filling his lungs with the scent of _them_.

The new smells don’t bother Derek as much as he thought they would, being so used to his apartment only carrying the lingering scents of pack and himself. It comforts him instead, makes him think about how well their scents go together.

He remembers Isaac taking an Intro to Immunology course when he was in college during the two minutes Isaac had considered a biology major. He had gone on and on about immuno-proteins and how _cool_ they were, especially for werewolves.

These proteins are responsible, among other things, for an organism’s inherent scent. And when humans (and werewolves and mammals in general) find someone’s scent appealing, it means that they are smelling someone with different proteins from their own.

Which, Isaac had explained, biologically and evolutionarily speaking, means that humans are unconsciously attracted to people with different genes than their own. Something that is good for evolution and variation in species or something like that. Derek wasn’t paying that much attention. But he caught the part that this means that any offspring produced would have more varied proteins that either of its parent, making the child less susceptible to disease.

 _And_ , Isaac had explained emphatically, that would just be even more potent for werewolves and their senses of smell.

So basically, Derek thinking Stiles smells good means that they are compatible biologically, meaning that they will make a healthy baby. If Stiles gets pregnant. Which Derek doesn’t doubt he will, considering the amount of sex they’ve had this past week.

And that makes his heart clench painfully in his chest, knowing that if everything goes as it’s supposed to in about nine months he’ll have a child of his own, of his blood, a _Hale._

He’d get the family he’s been craving since his own was murdered. Not that Boyd, Erica, and Isaac aren’t that to him, but this child will be kin, will be his.

And Stiles’s.

At least part of him.

And Derek likes that.

He likes it a lot.

Because being with Stiles and spending time with him is probably the easiest thing he’s ever done.

And he’s pretty sure a baby that’s half him and half Stiles would just be really, really perfect.

* * *

On day seven of Stiles’s heat, he sleeps.

He grumbles a bit when Derek wakes him up to feed him, but accepts whatever Derek gives him without fussing _too_ much about it.

Derek’s a pretty good cook.

Stiles is pretty sure he made actual macaroni and cheese with real cheese _—_ not the kind from the box. It’s creamy and cheesy and _perfect,_ especially because Derek threw in some bacon bits as well.

That’s one thing Stiles is definitely going to miss if things don’t work out. Derek’s _cooking_.

Derek also never fails to bring him his favorite orange juice, and Stiles has no idea how he still has any left. He must have bought like six cartons for there to still be some left.

There are also the sweets. Fruit, and chocolate, and an endless supply of jelly beans, and Stiles can’t help the way his lips curl up in a soft smile whenever Derek hands them to him.

And one time Derek brings him strawberries _—_ shyly, for some reason _—_ and _blushes_ as he watches Stiles take a bite out of one. Stiles is not entirely sure why that is, but he makes a note to see if it happens in the future. He’ll ask about it when he’s not so tired.

They don’t have sex.

Stiles’s heat has died down completely, and he feels absolutely no need to be knotted or fucked. He tells Derek as much while they’re having lunch, biting down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing when Derek’s eyes widen and his cheeks color and he stammers out his agreement. You know, after reassuring Stiles that he understands and wouldn’t want Stiles to do anything he’s not comfortable with.

Something that contributes to his lack of sex drive is that fact that he’s sore _all over_ , wincing every time he makes any sharp movements and hissing through his teeth whenever he tries to stretch.

That’s what he gets for having a week long sex marathon.

Taking a warm bath doesn’t really help, and Stiles is about to go back to bed and resign himself to not moving for the next week or so when Derek comes up to him, looking concerned.

“You’re in pain,” Derek says, brows furrowed, unhappiness written all over his face.

“I’m _sore_ ,” Stiles snorts. “Not that that’s a surprise. I did just get the work out of my life these past six days with you.”

Derek shifts on his feet at that, the tips of his ears turning red, but he doesn’t respond to the comment.

Because, you know, there’s nothing he can say to that since it’s _all true_.

“I could—,” Derek clears his throat. “I could help you with that, maybe. If you don’t mind.”

“You mean with your pain sucking werewolfy thing?” Stiles perks up, having completely forgotten about how Derek could take his pain away until just now.

He’s seen Scott do it innumerous times the past few years, and has actually been on the end of the pain sucking thing himself. He’s prone to injury, always has been, and since Scott turned he never hesitated before taking Stiles’s pain away.

“I was thinking more like, uh, a massage?”

Derek looks so hesitant and awkward and _cute_ when he offers that that Stiles has to press his lips together not to smile. Or coo. Or grab his face and squeeze his cheeks together until his eyes pop out.

Until he realizes what Derek just said.

“A massage?” Stiles asks, just to be sure.

“Yes.”

“Really?” Stiles thought heat week with Derek couldn’t get better than this, but he’s obviously wrong.

“Really,” Derek gives him a pointed look. “Do you want it?”

“ _Fuck_ yes,” he says, eyes wide and staring at Derek. “Yes, _please._ ”

Like he’d _ever_ say no to something like that.

“Strip down to your boxers then,” Derek says, getting up to grab something from the bathroom. “And get on the bed, on your stomach.”

Stiles doesn’t waste time, eager to comply and get Derek’s hands on him again.

He feels Derek straddle him just under his ass when he gets back, and he can tell Derek’s settling the majority of his weight on his own knees, rather than sitting on Stiles.

He doesn’t know whether to be grateful or sad at that.

He hears a snap of a bottle opening and closing, and then Derek’s hands are on his shoulders, slick with something Stiles thinks is actual massage oil, his touches going from light and hesitant to something harder and deeper as Derek kneads his skin.

Derek moves his hands downwards, and they feel hot and sure and _perfect_ as they rub oil into the small of Stiles’s back, easing the tension there.

Stiles can’t help but moan out loud when Derek got his hands on Stiles’s ass, thumbs digging in, massaging his cheeks but staying away from his sore and abused hole. Stiles is thankful for that. He doesn’t think he’d be able to bear if someone touched him there right now, not after all the sex and knotting that went on.

Derek seems to know it without him having to say anything.

Instead, Derek shuffles downwards so he can get his hands on Stiles’s thighs, rubbing in long sweeps upward, grazing his balls lightly and making Stiles sigh in pleasure and contentment.

This is the best heat week Stiles has had, his first with an alpha and without the suppressants, and he has no idea how he got so lucky with Derek, but he did. _So_ lucky.

As he dozes off to sleep, he thinks idly if Derek will massage him when he’s huge and pregnant and complaining about every and all things.

Stiles is pretty sure he will.

And isn’t he glad for _that_.

* * *

Derek watches Stiles sleep, something that’s sort of become a habit for him during the last few days.

He keeps track of Stiles’s slow breaths, calm heartbeat, the little soft sounds Stiles makes as he sleeps.

He takes in everything and is grateful for it, grateful to have Stiles in his bed, grateful he got to do this with him.

After everything Derek’s been through, he managed to enjoy himself while having sex with someone, even if it was just a means to an end. It wasn’t something he was expecting to happen, not really, to be able to let himself go like that with someone again. But it did, and it happened with Stiles, and Derek can’t help but be happy about it.

He also hopes he made this week good for Stiles; if not that, than at least easier to go through.

He’s a little upset too.

He’d gotten used to having someone around the house all the time this past week, someone to talk to and joke around with.

Someone who was just constantly _there_.

Not that the pack isn’t, but they’re more visitors than housemates these days, having their own places and lives. The four of them don’t live out of each other’s pockets like they did the first few years after they came together, not anymore.

Derek hadn’t realized how much he missed it.

There’s another two weeks before the TOL doctors can confirm the pregnancy, which means that Stiles is going back home, even if it’s only for that short time.

He and Stiles talked about it briefly earlier that day—they’ll take a test in two weeks, find out if it’s positive a couple days after, and if it is, Stiles will pack up his things as soon as possible and move in with Derek the next day.

At least that’s the plan.

Derek really hopes that happens.

Not because that means he’ll have Stiles back in his space, but because that means he’ll be finally getting the baby he wants.

Or at least that’s what he’s telling himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to J having finals week to get through, the next update will be in two weeks: **Friday, July 4th around 5pm EST.**


	8. No time for losers, ‘cause we are the champions of the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is probably, _most likely_ pregnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are sorry for the wait guys, but here’s the next chapter! It’s almost twice as long as the previous one, to compensate for last week. It also didn’t go through a beta read, so if you spot any mistakes, please let us know. Enjoy!
> 
> Chapter title (as we’re sure you know already) from [We Are the Champions by Queen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=04854XqcfCY&feature=kp). And as usual, here’s the [Settle Down 'Verse Breakdown](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/sdch) in case you need it.
> 
> xoxo,  
> J & P

Stiles can tell Derek doesn’t like the idea of him going back to his apartment.

And, honestly?

At the risk of sounding completely full of himself, he's not surprised.

He remembers what things were like with Jackson when Danny was pregnant with Dawn, how he pretty much never wanted to let Danny out of his sight. It was only Lydia pointing out that hovering and being glued to Danny all the time was stressing him out —and that stress isn’t good for the baby—that made him back off.

So he understands.

Because Stiles is probably, _most likely_ pregnant.

Even though they won’t get the confirmation in about two weeks, Stiles knows he is _most likely_ pregnant with Derek’s child. And he knows Derek’s instincts are probably going all kinds of crazy with the need to _provide_ and _protect_.

So Stiles totally gets it that Derek wants him to stay _close_. To stay _safe_. _Protected_.

So it’s only past experience that’s keeping Stiles from saying something about all the hovering and Derek following him around the apartment like a lost puppy. Something he’s gonna have to quickly reconsider. Because seeing Derek nervous about him leaving is making _him_ anxious about going back to his place, and Stiles is not cool with that.

“Okay, this needs to stop.”

Derek freezes halfway into following Stiles into the guest bedroom, eyes widening in surprise before he starts frowning in confusion.

“What.”

“You,” Stiles points a finger at him. “With the trailing behind me and hovering and growling under your breath whenever I put something in my bag. It’s not okay, and it’s making me anxious. I don’t like feeling anxious.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” Stiles gives him a pointed a look.

“I just—,” Derek pauses, and _woah_ puppy dog eyes. “Just need to make sure you’re okay.”

Stiles wants to roll his eyes, but Derek’s being so earnest and looking at him with an almost yearning look.

“I’m fine,” Stiles tells him, and taps a finger against his chest. “You know I’m telling the truth.Totally, one hundred percent good.”

Derek seems to relax a little bit at that and Stiles grins. “If you _really_ wanna help, you could maybe make me something to eat? I’m _starving_.”

Derek nods seriously, and Stiles chuckles a little at how quickly he makes his way to the kitchen. It says good things about this situation if Stiles really ends up being pregnant. He can totally see himself taking advantage of Derek’s cooking skills.

After he’s finished packing his things, double checking the bathroom and Derek’s room, he slings his duffel across his chest and makes his way to the kitchen.

Just in time to see Derek placing two plates of stir fry with brown rice on one end of the table, opposite from where a bunch of Derek’s work papers are piled up neatly.

The food smells great, as usual, and he tells Derek as much, smirking when Derek gets flustered by the compliment and blushes. Stiles knows being able to provide is a big thing for any wolf, and seeing how embarrassed Derek gets by being pleased at how well he manages to do that makes his stomach flip.

This is also the first time he’s ever been up and about and with his mind clear and got to take a peek at Derek’s work, eyes taking in sharp lines and neat handwriting as he sets his duffel on the floor by the table and grabs a chair.

“This looks really good,” Stiles comments, pulling one of the drawings closer to him but still far enough so that he won’t end up getting any food on it.

Derek glances up briefly to see what Stiles is looking at before shrugging and going back to concentrating on his food.

“It’s just a basic apartment complex. Nothing too fancy.” He takes a bite and chews for a bit before talking again. “It’s actually pretty similar to this one.”

 _Nothing fancy_?

“This apartment building is pretty damn fancy, Derek,” he blurts out, before stuffing his face with chicken and rice.

He can already feel the blood rushing to his cheeks.

 _Awesome_.

Derek blinks at that, but doesn’t really say anything. He looks around though, as if taking in his surroundings for the first time, his eyes going a little lost and sad.

“I guess it is,” Derek says quietly, before staring back down at his food. “I never really noticed.”

“And how did you miss _that_?” Stiles asks again before he can really think about it, cursing himself silently at his lack of filter.

Derek shrugs, shoulders slumping a little.

“I designed this apartment,” Derek starts, and then scrunches his nose. “The building, really. They offered me this place as part of my salary. I accepted because it’s close to the park. The betas and I like to run there during the full moons, and this place is close enough that we can crash as soon as we’re tired.”

Stiles nods, because that makes sense. He remembers how much Scott liked the woods at the far edge of town when they still lived in Beacon Hills, and it must be no different from what Derek feels about the park.

His mind also gets stuck at the fact that apparently someone _gave_ this place to Derek. As in, he didn’t have to _pay for it_. Sure, he did all of the hard work in actually creating the building, but still. That’s kind of huge. He knew Derek was successful, but he’s now just realizing how much.

He doesn’t make any comments about that, though. Instead he focuses on this being the place Derek and his pack come to after runs, his lips twitch up at the thought of it. Because he hasn’t met Boyd or Isaac, but he’s totally picturing them curled up in a pile in the middle of Derek’s living room, fast asleep.

Kind of like _his_ own pack does after every full moon, anchoring themselves with touch and closeness and the scent of pack.

So Stiles says, “Aww, that’s so cute.”

Derek frowns up at him, eyebrows drawing together and lips furrowing, obviously confused about what Stiles just said.

“What is?”

He clarifies, “Pack sleepovers!” He takes a small bite of food then, and continues to talk as he chews. “We used to do those all the time before Dawn was born.”

“What’s cute about them?” Derek tilts his head, still looking like he has no idea what Stiles is talking about.

“Puppy piles,” Stiles says after he swallows.

Which is a good thing, otherwise he’s almost positive he’d choke on it when he started laughing at the _horrified_ and offended look on Derek’s face.

“ _What_?” Derek asks, voice a little high.

“Don’t you have them?” Stiles frowns, because that’s just _sad_. “During full moon nights, we always used to push our mattresses and sleeping bags together so we could all pile up on each other and sleep. _Puppy piles_.”

Derek opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before he hisses, “We’re not _puppies_.”

“Well, obviously,” Stiles blinks, not understanding why Derek’s so upset. “But we all looked cute like puppies when we were sleeping like that. Lydia took pictures.”

Derek’s face does a funny thing then, like he’s disapproving of their ‘puppy piles’ but at the same time he looks curious, like he wants to see those pictures.

That’s probably never going to happen.

Stiles is going to make sure of it.

“So you don’t mean—,” Derek starts, but soon snaps his mouth shut.

“Mean what?”

“You’re not— You don’t think—,” Derek huffs, and then says quietly, “We’re not dogs.”

“I know that,” Stiles blinks, and then jolts. “You thought I was—”

Derek shrugs, ducking his head, jaw clenching.

“I _wasn’t_ ,” Stiles says firmly, and he knows Derek can hear the absolute truth in it. “I would _never_. You’re not _animals_ , Derek. I _know_ that, and I would never _ever—_ ”

“Say that,” Derek finishes for him, looking a lot less tense. “I got it.”

“I don’t want you to think that I would, though. Because I wouldn’t. I’ve been with Scott since he was bitten, and I know that’s not true. Just because you can shift into a wolf it doesn’t make you an animal. What you choose to do with that kind of power is what does.”

“Like the rogue Alpha that attacked your friends,” Derek says, eyes glued to Stiles.

“And the dark druid that tried to sacrifice Lydia to power up her tree,” Stiles adds.

Derek raises an eyebrow.

Stiles shakes his head.

“And I don’t mean only the supernatural,” Stiles says, voice low. “Humans can be pretty awful too.”

A dark shadow passes across Derek’s face at that, his eyes going distant and cold. “Yes, they can.”

Stiles wants to ask, but he makes himself swallow back the words. He has a feeling Derek wouldn’t tell him anything about it if he did ask.

They’re both finished with their food by now, so Stiles picks up the plates as usual and makes his way over to the kitchen.

Stiles hears Derek’s chair scrape against the floor like he’s about to follow him, but a quick glance over his shoulder tells him that Derek is just standing by the table, his fists clenched at his sides.

Derek has that look on his face like he wants to do something but doesn’t know if it’ll be welcome, so Stiles puts the dirty dishes in the sink and turns to him. He tries to offer Derek an encouraging smile, and that seems to help when Derek moves.

Stiles watches as Derek walks up to him, small smile widening when Derek doesn’t stop as he gets closer. He keeps going instead, until they’re chest to chest and Derek has his arms around his waist, his chin resting on top of Stiles’s shoulder.

Stiles hugs him back, arms wrapping themselves around Derek’s neck, their cheeks resting together.

“Thank you,” Derek says, fingers digging into Stiles’s sides.

“You don’t have to thank me for telling the truth,” Stiles tells him. “That’s just what it is.”

Stiles breathes against Derek’s neck, scent marking him a little before untangling himself from Derek and turning around to wash the dishes.

He feels more than hears Derek’s soft sigh of contentment behind him and can’t really keep himself from smirking when he says, “If you’re still gonna do your hovering thing, you could at least dry the dishes.”

That’s what they do for the next few minutes, silently cleaning everything up.

Stiles picks his bag up once he’s done, first making sure he’s wearing all the necessary layers to go outside during January in New York, and turns to Derek with his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels as he waits for Derek to grab his keys and bundle up.

It’s snowing lightly when Derek drives out of the garage, coming down in wet flurries and sliding slowly down the windshield.

Stiles is really glad Derek offered to give him a ride. Walking through this from the subway stop to his apartment would have definitely soaked his clothes all the way through.

The streets are fairly empty for a Saturday afternoon, but Derek’s driving _slow_ , definitely under the limit and Stiles squirms.

He doesn’t know if Derek’s trying to spend more time with him, or if he’s nervous about driving in the sleet, or if he’s worried about the potential baby, but Stiles wants to be _home_ already.

As cool as it was to stay at Derek’s for the week, he’s kind of missing his place, his things, having his _own_ space.

It takes about fifteen more minutes that it _should_ , but finally Derek is parking in a spot close enough to his apartment, despite Stiles saying he can just hop out of the car so Derek can  drive on home.

Derek ends up walking him up to his door, and once Stiles gets it unlocked they both stand there awkwardly for a moment.

“So,” Stiles starts, rocking back on his heels.

“So.”

“I’ll see you in two weeks?”

“Yes,” Derek nods, hands in his pockets, looking about as awkward as ever.

Stiles worries at his bottom lip, not really knowing what to do or say but also not wanting to just part ways with Derek like this.

So he takes a step forward and into Derek’s personal space and pulls him into a hug, his cheek resting against Derek’s shoulder, nose brushing against the side of his neck.

“I don’t think I’ve said this before, but thanks,” Stiles says, finding it a lot easier to say this when he’s not staring into Derek’s eyes. “This was— I’d never spent a heat week with an alpha before, so I didn’t really know what to expect. But this week was good. It was— You helped. A lot. And you were great about everything and didn’t push when I didn’t want to do something and you took care of me. So thank you.”

He feels Derek let out a deep breath, the arms he has around Stiles’s waist going tight.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” Derek tells him. “Not now, not ever.”

Stiles nods, squeezing him a little tighter, and whispers, “I really hope this works.”

They stay like that for a moment before Derek steps back and gives him a heavy look, full of meaning. “Me too, Stiles.”

Stiles steps back, not sure what his face is doing but it’s probably embarrassing, so he clears his throat and scratches at the nape of his neck before stepping inside his door.

“Do you want to come in?”

Something in Derek’s expression changes, something like regret, even displeasure. “I can’t. I’m supposed to meet the betas soon.”

He nods, a little disappointed, but he understands.

“That’s okay. I should probably call Scott, Lydia and my dad.”

Derek nods at him briefly. “Right, see you in two weeks.”

“See you,” Stiles says quietly, watching as Derek leaves.

After he gets into his place, Stiles spends some time just walking around, unpacking here and there, taking stock of his apartment and groceries and going through the mail he received in the last week.

He doesn’t really have that much stuff of his own in the apartment; it had come fully furnished, not that any of it is new or particularly good. The things that belong to him are pretty minimal. He’s definitely taking his fluffy blankets and throw pillows with him to Derek’s, because even though the guest room’s sheets and duvet were all awesome he still missed his things. The kitchen and bathroom-ware will all fit in a couple medium sized boxes and Scott has already offered him some storage space in his and Kira’s apartment.

He’d asked Derek about it already, and he’d said that Stiles could bring his TV and video game console and games to put in the guest room at Derek’s apartment. Besides his clothes, linens, a few books, and his laptop, that’s it. He’s not going to have any problem fitting those things in Derek’s spacious guest room.

He’s talked to the landlord already; letting him know that barring something being insanely wrong with his reproductive system, he’d be moving out by the end of the month.

Stiles has also talked at length with Lydia about this, and she’s promised to find him a decent place within his price range during the last month of his pregnancy. He’d warned her that if she doesn’t come through, he’s moving in with her. He can be Dawn’s nanny or something. Although, when Jackson had heard that he’d told Stiles that he would _make sure_ Lydia followed through with arranging an apartment for him.

While he looks through his mail, he calls Scott to let him know that’s he’s home and safe. Only to have Scott promptly hang up on him when he tries to go into details about his heat week.

He shoots a text to Lydia saying the same thing and instead of texting him back, Lydia calls him, demanding he come over so she can get all the details.

Stiles has to decline the invitation. As much as he’d like to spend some time with his pack, he kind of feels like being alone for a while. He guesses that’s what happens when he spends an entire week being physically close to someone. He doesn’t really want to be touched all that much by other people right now. He tells her he’s exhausted and that he just wants to chill in his house and that they can definitely meet up tomorrow.

He also calls his dadjust to let him know his heat week is over and that it went well and that Derek was a perfect gentleman.

The Sheriff picks up after a single ring, and Stiles rolls his eyes. His dad was obviously waiting for this phone call.

“Stiles? You okay, son?”

His dad is still acting like he was going to be murdered or something by spending his heat with an alpha. He sounds _worried_.

Stiles kind of gets it, though, with his dad being the Sheriff. He’s seen a lot of bad things in his lifetime, and omegas being abused or attacked by alphas was definitely on the list.

“Yeah, Dad. Totally fine. _So_ fine, I really shouldn’t tell you anymore than that.”

His dad snorts. Stiles can practically _see_ the face-palm happening right now.

And, well, at least he’s not worried anymore.

“Well, son, I’m glad you, ah, enjoyed yourself. And that’s _all_ I’m going to say about that.”

“Really, Dad. He’s a good alpha,” Stiles says, seriously. “Derek did everything he could to make things easier on me and to take care of me and never pushed. I didn’t do anything I wasn’t a hundred percent comfortable with.”

The Sheriff sighs, and when he speaks again Stiles knows his dad is okay. “That’s good to hear. I wouldn’t want to have to hunt him down. I have better things to do with my time.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Stiles says dryly. “That’s really nice to know.”

“So what happens next?” his dad asks then, cautiously.

He tells his dad about their immediate plans, about meeting with the doctors in two weeks to confirm the pregnancy (or not, even though that’s _highly_ unlikely), and that he’d probably move in with Derek soon after that. He mentions the arrangements he made for his things and his apartment plans, and by the end of it he can tell his dad is _still_ not one hundred percent on board with this life plan, but that he’s trying unbelievably hard to be supportive.

“Well, kid, it looks like you have everything under control.”

Stiles swallows, resting a hand over his flat stomach, suddenly nervous.

He doesn’t really feel like that’s the case.

At all.

* * *

The ride back to his apartment feels strangely _quiet_ to Derek. He doesn’t hear a second heart beat or the sound of tapping fingers or the shuffle of clothing.

His apartment feels different too, the _scents_ of a second person linger, but there’s no other indication that anyone is there.

It’s kind of unsettling, after a week of having another person constantly with him.

But the apartment still does smell alarming like slick and lube and _sex,_ though, which is kind of a problem. As much as Derek would like for the scents of him and Stiles to stay, the betas are coming over for dinner later and Derek knows they _definitely_ won’t feel the same way.

So Derek grabs some supplies to start cleaning up after starting a load of laundry. Erica would never let him hear the end of it if those scents had lingered and he has _no_ desire to be on the receiving end of one of Boyd’s disapproving stares. And there’s a slight chance the scent of Stiles’s heat might trigger Isaac’s own, and Derek’s not going to risk that happening. By the time he’s done, he’s positive his apartment has never been this clean.

Derek spends the time until the betas arrive divided between getting his work desk back in order, reading, and trying to convince himself he enjoys the utter silence across the apartment.

He practically jumps out of his seat and goes to open the door when he hears three pairs of feet walking in the hallway, eager to spend the evening with his betas.

Not that he’ll ever tell them that.

And not that he thinks he needs to when they all grin at him as he opens the door before they can let themselves in.

“Someone missed us,” Erica comments, looking incredibly pleased with herself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Derek says flatly, stepping aside to let them in.

His lips tip up when Erica hugs him hello and rubs her cheek against his before giving it a kiss, Isaac and Boyd following behind and doing almost the same thing. He should have expected this to happen.It’s only natural that they would scent mark him, having the need for them to strengthen the scent of pack after a week of being separated.

“How was the full moon?” Derek asks once they’re all inside, closing the door behind him.

The full moon happened in the middle of Stiles’s heat, Derek being too busy seeing Stiles through it to feel much of the pull of the moon. He wonders if that happened because his wolf was taking care of Stiles and providing for him, and was too focused on that to want to run and howl and hunt.

This was the first time that the betas had been on their own during a full moon though, and Derek definitely wants to know how it went.

“It was fine,” Isaac shrugs. “We ran, we made hamburgers, we slept in Boyd and Erica’s guest room because I refused to go anywhere near the bed they have sex in.”

Both Boyd and Erica smack the back on his head at that, but Derek grimaces in sympathy.

“No trouble, then?”

“None,” Boyd shakes his head. “We ran with a few of the wolves that always go to the park, but nothing happened.”

“Good,” Derek nods, happy to know they hadn't gotten themselves into a messy situation when he wasn’t around.

“And what about you?” Erica wiggles her eyebrows. “How was heat week with Stiles?”

Derek is not blushing.

Really, he isn’t.

He also doesn’t shift uncomfortably or duck his head, not daring to look any of the betas in the eye.

“That good, huh?” Isaac teases, bumping their shoulders together.

Derek huffs, shaking his head at them. “None of your business.”

“That good,” Boyd gives Isaac a pointed look, while Erica raises a hand for a high-five.

Isaac and Boyd both give in to her request when all Derek does is look skyward and ask for strength.

“Everything went about as expected,” Derek tells them, not wanting to give out details. What happened between him and Stiles is something private, and he’s gonna make sure it stays that way. “I should be getting a call in about two weeks so I can go to TOL and meet Stiles and we can confirm the pregnancy.”

He can’t help but feel a bit nervous at that, being left two weeks without knowing for sure if he’s going to be a father or not. The betas pick up on his feelings and shuffle closer, all giving him reassuring looks.

“It’ll work out,” Erica says, grabbing one of Derek’s hands and lacing their fingers together. “And in no time we’ll have a little baby with your ridiculous eyebrows and Stiles’s eyes running around the place and bossing you around.”

Derek snorts, squeezing her hand in thanks.

“Really, though,” Isaac pipes up. “It’ll happen. You know the odds are in your favor when it comes to conceiving during heat week. Add that to the fact that it was a full moon, and you’ll get a baby for sure.”

“I hope so,” Derek mumbles, heart clenching in his chest, desperately wanting for them to be right.

“We have our fingers crossed, too,” Boyd tells him, waving his hands in front of Derek’s face, his fingers actually crossed.

“Thanks,” Derek says dryly, smiling a little.

“You’re welcome,” Boyd tilts his chin. “Now, what are we eating?”

They end up ordering pizzas, sitting down at Derek’s dinner table and talking all the way through eating.

Somehow Derek ends up making plans with Erica so she can help him set up the apartment in case Stiles is actually pregnant and ends up coming to live with him, agreeing to meet with her three nights that next week to go shopping. Boyd and Isaac announce they want absolutely _nothing_ to do with that, but offer their help with whatever Derek needs and also their shoulders for Derek to cry on after spending that much time in a store with Erica.

And that’s how Derek spends the next two weeks: following Erica around while she makes his apartment suitable for two people to live in, and hanging out with Boyd and Isaac whenever she gets to be too much.

He also handles his company, submitting the blueprints he finished early and reviewing new projects. He checks in with the junior architects that work for him on smaller projects, and is pleased that they were able to hold their own while he was out.

He’s actually just starting on the concepts foryet another large, upscale apartment complexwhen his phone rings.

Derek is almost positive his heart stops in his chest when he sees who’s calling, and it takes him a few seconds to get himself together before he manages to answer it.

“Derek Hale speaking.”

“Mr. Hale, it’s Braden from TOL. I’m calling to see if it’d be possible for you to come in tomorrow. Since its been about two weeks from the end of Stiles’s heat week, we should be able to determine pregnancy given his hormone levels. I assume you would like to be present for that?”

“Yes, definitely,” Derek says, swallowing hard. “That works for me. What time?”

They schedule for him go in right after lunch time, and he spends the rest of the day a complete _wreck_ , alternating between pacing in his office and staring blankly at his new commissions. He doesn’t stay a minute past five pm, too eager about tomorrowto dawdle.

He takes a personal day off from work the next day, but still gets up early to burn some of his anxiety and excitement with an intense workout. One of the perks of being a werewolf is that he never gets sore, so he has no problem pushing himself to the limit.

By the time he’s showered and had lunch, he’s only got about an hour before he needs to be at the agency, so he stops by the coffee shop for a decaf to calm his nerves.

Stiles isn’t there, but Kira is. She gives him a big hug and tells him not to be nervous.

It helps a little.

Especially when she goes ahead and says, “You should hear Stiles talking about all of this. He even forbid Scott to say anything if his scent changed because he said it was supposed to be something you two found out together.”

Derek’s heart doesn’t do a stupid flip at that.

And his cheeks also don’t burn, no matter what the glint in Kira’s eyes say.

He walks to the agency from there, since it’s only about a dozen blocks away and he still has about a half hour to kill. He still arrives about ten minutes early though, but Greenberg at the front desk just waves him in and points to a door a little ways down the hall.

It hits him the moment he steps inside and stops him in his tracks, heart stuttering before picking up again, faster and too loud for his ears.

It’s Stiles’s scent, the one of coffee and books and grass.

But it’s _different_ somehow.

It’s sweeter, _richer_ , fuller.

It’s intoxicating whenever Derek takes in a deep breath, filling his lungs.

It makes his wolf want to howl, to run, to wrap himself around Stiles, who’s sitting in one of the office chairs and staring at Derek with an expectant look on his face.

Derek doesn’t give in, though.

He just smiles.

He smiles wide and big and proud, teeth showing, eyes crinkling, cheeks flushing this time not in embarrassment but in happiness.

Because—

“We did, didn’t we?” Stiles asks, lips forming his own bright grin.

“Yeah,” Derek says, voice cracking. “Yeah, we did it.”

* * *

“We still have to do the tests so we can get an official confirmation,” Marin says, lips tipped up slightly.

Not that Stiles pays that much attention to her.

Not when Derek is still smiling at him, looking about a thousand times more attractive than he already is. He looks so fucking _smug_ and proud of himself and genuinely happy that Stiles kind of wants to kiss that smile right off his face.

Nevermind that Stiles is the one who made Derek look like that in the first place.

Because as soon as Derek saw him, he knew what Stiles has felt for two weeks now: he’s pregnant.

He wonders if Scott could tell as well.

He thinks Scott could, considering the way he kept avoiding Stiles’s eyes these past few days whenever they got together.

Fucking werewolves.

Braeden claps her hands together and Stiles jumps, looking away from where he’s fucking mesmerized by Derek’s smile and over to where she and Marin are standing by the door.

“As lovely as this scene is, and I don’t mean to second guess an alpha werewolf, we still do need to do this properly.” Braeden looks at them, amusement clear on her face. “So, Stiles and Derek, if you could just follow me to one of our exam rooms, we can go ahead and get started.”

Stiles wants to snark back at her, saying that he knows his body, and he knows this is happening, but Derek’s face turns serious as he nods at Braeden and then offers Stiles a hand to help him up.

And while he’s perfectly capable of getting up on his own, he doesn’t hesitate taking hold of Derek’s hand. Because a tiny little part of him wants to be close to Derek right now, wants to touch him, and he’s not gonna deny himself when he just found out he’s pregnant.

He’s already going to be doing a lot _that_ for the next nine months, when he won’t be able to drink or eat certain things, so he figures he can indulge.

“We should make sure everything’s alright,” Derek says, thumb rubbing circles over the back of Stiles’s hand.

Stiles can’t really argue with that.

Derek holds his hand throughout the exam, not even flinching when Stiles crushes it after the nurse comes towards him with a needle. He just keeps on tracing the soft skin on the back of Stiles’s hand, looking at him intensely, waiting for all the tests to be done.

“I should probably warn you you’re going to be doing these every month until the eighth month of your pregnancy,” the nurse tells him, a kind smile on her face. “And after that they’ll be happening every week.”

Stiles feels his entire body going cold, and he turns his head in Derek’s direction so fast his neck cracks.

“Oh my _god_ , please tell me you’ll come with me,” Stiles pleads. “I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“You won’t have to,” Derek says, and if Stiles didn’t have someone with a needle near him he probably would have laughed at how serious he sounds. “I’ll be with you every time. I promise.”

Stiles squeezes Derek’s hand even tighter, giving him a shaky smile, his insides melting a little at Derek’s promise. “Thanks. I just really don’t like needles.”

“No problem,” Derek says, smiling softly.

They stare at each other for a few minutes, Derek’s face being a wonderful distraction from the fact that someone’s drawing blood from him.

It only takes a few more seconds before the nurse pats him in the arm and tells him they’re done.

“It’ll only be a few minutes until we can give you the confirmation. You should be good to wait here until the doctor and either Marin or Braeden come to see you.”

Both Stiles and Derek nod and watch her walk away, leaving them alone in the room.

They sit in comfortable silence, knowing they don’t have to spring up conversation and can just wait quietly until someone comes to tell them what they already know.

Stiles is a bit surprised Derek doesn’t let go of his hand as soon as the nurse leaves. He doesn’t complain or try to pull his hand away, though, relishing in the feeling of Derek’s warm palm against his, Derek’s touch settling him something deep inside his chest.

It doesn’t take long until Dr. Deaton and Marin are there, greeting them with smiles on their faces.

“Well, Mr. Hale, your nose was right,” Deaton says. “Mr. Stilinski is expecting.”

Stiles grins while Derek lets out a choked up laugh and tightens his grip on Stiles’s hand, accepting the doctor and Marin’s congratulations.

“I want to remind you both that TOL will be with you every step of the way,” Marin says, smiling a little. “And if you two need anything or have any questions, don’t hesitate hesitate to contact us.”

Derek nods, face trying to be serious once again, but he just continues to look _elated_. “We definitely will.” He turns so that he’s facing both Marin and Braeden, who’s just walked in.  “Thank you both _so much_ , I don’t think— You have no idea how much I—”

He stops when Marin laughs, a light sound that is in no way teasing. “No problem at all, Mr. Hale. You and Mr. Stilinski here are free to hang out and chat if you need to, but otherwise, we’re done here. Greenberg in front has pre-natal vitamins and information brochures for the two of you and information about a follow up. We’ll want to see you back for a pre-natal check up in about a month.”

“We’ll talk to him,” Stiles tells her, eyes on Derek.

“We’ll leave you to for a minute, then.”

Marin, Braeden, and Dr. Deaton congratulate them once again before leaving the room, giving them a bit of privacy.

With them gone, the full weight of Derek’s grateful gaze lands on him, and he can’t help how his stomach continues to flip at the sight. Derek’s eyes hover from his face and then down toStiles’sflatstomach.

It _should_ be strange, but it’s not. Especially given the newfound urge he has to put his hand over his stomach protectively, keeping the fetus in there safe from the big scary world.

He looks at Derek, unable to keep the smile off his face when he asks, “So I guess I’m moving in, huh?”

Derek’s face does a mess of complicated things then, going from sated to worried to questioning and then ending on hesitatingly relieved.

“Well, yes, I was hoping so?” Derek says, hesitantly. “You didn’t—you didn’t change your mind about that, did you?”

“No,” Stiles says, feeling a little guilty he means it so much, not only because he wants to be near Derek during the pregnancy but also because he doesn’t want to spend money he doesn’t have on rent. “I’m still good to come live with you. I mean, if you’re cool with it.”

“I am. I don’t— I’d be hard for me not to be around you and the—,” Derek stops, gaze falling to Stiles’s stomach again. “I’d be hard for me not to be around you and the baby. So this is good.”

“I’m uh—,” Stiles winces, apologetic. “Actually, I’m all packed up already?”

Instead of looking put out and annoyed like Stiles thought he would, Derek’s eyes just widen and his mouth parts before his lips curl up in a pleased smile. He gets that happy look on his face again, like when he first caught scent of Stiles’s pregnancy.

“I’ll come get you in the morning then?” Derek rushes, seeming more excited about Stiles moving in than Stiles does. “That way you can spend the night with your pack and take care of any last minute details?”

Stiles blinks but nods his assent, figuring Derek’s reaction must have something to do with him feeling relief about having Stiles and his baby close.

“Thanks, yeah. That would be perfect. I gotta warn you though, I have quite a bit more things that I’m bringing with me than last time. Dunno if it’ll all fit in the Camaro.”

Derek nods, smiling shyly. “I have another car, a bigger one.” He sighs, “Erica calls it my mom van but it’s useful, so. I’ll bring that one tomorrow. I can also ask for the betas to come around, if you think it’ll help.”

Stiles isn’t really surprised. Derek is obviously well off, and didn’t even have to pay for his place; it kind of figures that he’s splurged elsewhere.

“That’s okay,” Stiles waves a hand dismissively. “I think we can handle it.”

Derek gets this adorable little frown when Stiles says that, eyes going _again_ to Stiles’s stomach before he says, “You shouldn’t be lifting weight. It’s not good for the baby.”

Stiles blinks.

And then makes a big show of rolling his eyes.

“Dude, you don’t have anything to worry about. Because if you think for one minute that I’m not gonna make you carry all the heavy stuff while I just movemy laptop bag and multiple boxes of blankets,then you’re _wrong_.”

Derek huffs, fighting off a smile. “That’s good to know.”

“Gotta put those wolfy powers to good use,” Stiles grins.

“Right,” Derek shakes his head at him.

Stiles keeps grinning.

“I can’t wait to see if Erica’s right, though. For some reason I can’t imagine you driving a mom van.”

“I won’t be looking forward to proving you wrong,” Derek mutters, making Stiles laugh.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Stiles asks, his hand slipping from Derek’s when he gets up from the table and grabs his hoodie, patting his pocket to check that he still has his wallet and keys.

“Definitely.”

“Thanks for offering to come pick me up,” Stiles says. “And for giving me the extra day to say goodbye to everyone and gets things ready.”

Now it’s Derek’s turn to roll his eyes.

And shake his head.

And then touch the side of Stiles’ arm with the tips of his fingers and say, “No, Stiles, thank _you_. For _everything_.”

* * *

Derek gets home in a bit of a daze.

Stiles is _pregnant_. With _his kid_.

And Stiles is moving in. _Tomorrow_.

He needs to go grocery shopping. Erica had made him buy new soaps and sheets and even a better mattress for the guest room, but he hadn’t gotten around to the buying food for more than one person part yet.

First thing though, he has to call his pack and tell him the news. He needs to tell them that in nine months, they’re going to have another member.

He dials Erica’s number with shaky fingers, heart thudding in his chest, and he’s smiling so big his cheeks are starting to hurt.

“How did it go?” is the first thing out of Erica’s mouth when she answers, and Derek can’t help but laugh.

“I’m gonna be a _dad_.”

He has to hold the phone away from his ear, because as soon as the words are out of his mouth Erica starts screaming.

He can actually hear her quite clearly that way—she’s alternating between screaming for Boyd to “fucking get over here already” and gushing about how “there’s going to be a _baby_ _Hale_ in the pack!”

He lets her scream at him for about two minutes straight before he’s had enough. Luckily Boyd manages to wrangle the phone away from Erica before Derek decide to hang up.

“So, a dad, huh?” Boyd says in that calming, serene voice that’s basically his default. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

Derek freezes for a moment, before thinking about it for a moment and relaxing. “Actually, I think I really am.”

He hears Erica squealing happily in the background at that, and figures she can hear exactly what he’s saying.

And Derek means it.

This wasn’t a decision he made lightly, without pausing to think about exactly what it would mean if he actually went through with it. It would mean having a family back, _his_ family. Someone that he would take care of for the rest of his life without fail, something he hadn’t managed to do before.

“I’m glad, man. Good for you,” Boyd says finally, when Erica’s quiet once again. “Hold on, Derek, Isaac’s here. He wants to say hi.”

There’s a slight scuffle while Isaac gets the phone before Derek hears his voice, tone teasing.

“So how much are you going to pay us to babysit?”

Derek snorts, shaking his head at him even though Isaac can’t see him. “Nothing. You’ll be doing it out of the goodness of your heart.”

“At least you’re not saying we’ll be doing it because you’re the Alpha,” Isaac sighs, sounding fond.

“You know I wouldn’t do that.”

He can hear Isaac’s smile in his voice when he replies, “Yeah, I do. I’m really happy for you man. This is gonna be good for you. For all of us.”

“Yeah, it will,” Derek says, certain that that’s true.

After saying goodbye to the betas and letting them know he’ll call if he and Stiles need help gathering Stiles’s things tomorrow, he goes about taking care of last minute details of his own. You know, like making sure he doesn’t have dirty clothes thrown anywhereand that Erica didn’t leave a makeup bag in the guest bathroom again.

Once that’s all settled, he heads out to the store, buying a lot of the same sort of things he bought for Stiles’s heat week. He gets lean steaks, ground turkey for healthy burgers, the orange juice brand that Stiles prefers, and last but not least, tons of peaches and strawberries.

He feels kind of guilty for getting those, mind flashing to feeding Stiles those fruits during heat week, but he reasons a healthy diet is important for the baby.

He gets an email from Erica when he’s out—a list of the six must eat foods for pregnancy—,so even though he’s halfway to the car, he goes back inside to get some salmon, blueberries, low fat yogurt and black beans. He has no idea to cook salmon or any recipes for fish, but at least now he knows what he’s going to do when he gets home.

The next day is luckily Saturday, so he doesn’t need to take another day off work. He wakes up leisurely, laying in bed reading about pregnancy on his iPad before doing a short cardio workout on the treadmill in his room before showering and getting ready to pick Stiles up.

He doesn’t text Stiles ahead of time this time, just finds a spot to park relatively close by and heads up the stairs.

He knocks hesitantly, and is not really very surprised when Scott opens the door.

“Hey, man, come on in,” Scott says easily, expression open and welcoming.

Not that Derek can actually imagine Scott ever looking any different.

The scents of pack are stronger today, like they all spent the night with Stiles or something. He can smell the familiar scents of Stiles and Kira and what he’s beginning to recognize as Scott.

There are a couple other scents though, one he recognizes as another werewolf, and the second of a baby, smelling of powder and milk.

What’s confusing to him though is that there are six heartbeats, but only five discernable scents. He has no idea why that is.

A petite woman comes up to him then, one he’s never met before and he realizes that she’s the one with a lack of scent. He realizes that this must be the banshee, Lydia—the one that Boyd knows and the one that had also used a surrogate.

Behind her is Stiles, amber eyes bright with happiness and contentment, holding the most adorable little girl in hisarms. She’s absolutely _lovely_ with dimples and strawberry blonde hair and light eyes, and Stiles and her are obviously very comfortable with one another.

“Hi, Derek!” Stiles says, looking at him with a huge smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “Everyone, this is Derek Hale. As you can see, I’ve wrangled some of my own werewolves to give you a hand! That way I can just go ahead and play with my little angel here.” He looks down at the little girl and rubs their noses together. “Isn’t that right, Dawnie? Gotta get some Uncle Stiles time in before he leaves!”

The baby squeals and slaps her hand onto Stiles’s cheek, and he smiles big before nuzzling the palm of her tiny hand.

She and Stiles look so taken with each other it makes Derek’s heart flip, something he’s sure the werewolves in the room are aware of. It’s just that the image of them together reminds Derek of what he’ll have in nine months, his own little bundle of joy, who’ll hopefully be just as happy and beautiful as the baby girl in Stiles’s arms.

“You say that like we’re not coming to visit,” Lydia says, talking to Stiles but never breaking eye contact with Derek, even as she steps aside to let him in.

He squares his shoulders and tilts his head in acknowledgement. “Of course, you’re Stiles’s pack. You’re all definitely welcome to visit. I’ve already told Stiles that.”

“And I’ve already told _them_ that,” Stiles pipes up, eyes narrowed. “So I don’t see why you’d have the need to check.”

She nods curtly and completely ignores what Stiles said, giving Derek a small smile. “Good. Now that we’ve got that sorted.” Her expression changes, smile widening into something dazzling, and she reaches her arm out to shake his hand. “I’m Lydia Martin. You know Scott and Kira. That beautiful little girl Stiles is holding is my daughter Dawn. The blonde grumpy beta in the corner is my husband, Jackson. I believe you may have heard of me through Boyd?”

“I’m not grumpy,” Jackson says, scowling.

Lydia just raises an eyebrow at him as if he’s proving her point.

Derek remembers that yes, he heard of her through Boyd, which means she probably knows Erica as well.

And from what he’s just seen, this doesn’t bode well for him.

Derek takes her hand, shaking it once before letting go. “I did, yes. He mentioned that you came in, demanding access to the rare mythology books that they keep under lock and key and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I think he liked that about you.”

Lydia smiles like Derek just paid her a compliment, flipping her hair over her shoulder, obviously pleased with herself.

She works at Columbia like Boyd, but in the Mathematical Physics Research department, whatever _that_ means, while Boyd works in the Butler Library. It makes sense that they would meet, especially if Lydia was interested in different types of mythology. Boyd had been so adamant to get that particular job _because_ of the incredible variety of books they carried.

According to Boyd, he knew there was something _other_ about Lydia as soon as he met her, and it took her about five seconds to figure out he wasn’t human himself but a werewolf. Apparently they struck a quick friendship over their love for mythology, Thai food, and how much trouble their packmates got in.

It kind of makes Derek wonder why he never met her before just now, but he figures this is Boyd’s way of protecting him from her and Erica whenever they are all together.

He makes a mental note to find a way to thank Boyd for that.

“It’ll be good if we all could get together some time,” Scott suggests, grinning. “I know Kira already knows everyone from your side and Lydia knows Boyd, but the rest of us have never met.”

“We should do it at Derek’s apartment,” Stiles perks up, grabbing one of Dawn’s hands and kissing her fingers when she tries to stick them in his mouth. “Did I mention how awesome his place is? And how _amazing_ everything he cooks tastes?”

Derek can feel his cheeks blushing at Stiles’s appreciation of his apartment and food, wolf rolling in contentment inside of him.

Kira looks positively gleeful at Stiles’s words, grin stretching from ear to ear. “I’d like that. A _lot_.”

“We—uh, we can definitely arrange something,” he says, tearing his eyes away from Stiles and Dawn only to see Lydia looking at him smugly.

It’s not his fault that Stiles looks so _natural_ holding a baby, okay?

“Now that introductions are over, can we get this over with?” Jackson says then, straightening from where he was leaning against the wall. “I have other things to do today.”

Derek doesn’t keep his displeasure from showing in his face at Jackson’s reaction. He understands being busy and having other commitments, but pack is always supposed to come first. Especially when one of your packmates is pregnant.

He knows Stiles is aware of just how much that bothers him when he gets up, Dawn now perched on his hip, and comes up to stand by his side, their shoulders brushing.

“Don’t worry about him. He’s just jealous his daughter likes me better, isn’t he?” Stiles teases, smiling down at Dawn and blowing a raspberry against the side of her neck.

Dawn giggles in delight at the same time Jackson’s expression turns even more sour.

“Dream on, Stilinski,” Jackson says, plucking Dawn from Stiles’s arms. “And what I meant when I said I have things to do today is that Dawn has a doctor’s appointment. We don’t want to be late.”

Derek knows Jackson only said that more for Derek’s sake than anyone else’s, and he has to admit it relaxes him a bit. He knows he’s always quick to assume the worst, and this time it was no different.

Stiles’s friends seem willing to overlook his reaction in favor of moving things along, gathering Stiles’s things and going about putting them in Derek’s car. Lydia wordlessly takes Dawn from Jackson’s arms and points to Stiles’s suitcases.

Derek, of course, helps out as well, piling up as many boxes as he can carry in one go and taking them downstairs. It only takes two rounds of Derek, Scott, and Jackson carrying things  before they’re finished, and Derek’s once again struck by how few things Stiles has.

He gets back upstairs after his last round to see Scott taking Stiles’s laptop bag from him, and hear Stiles huff and complain that, “Just because I’m knocked up doesn’t mean I can’t carry my own _laptop_ , Scott. Jesus.”

Before he can go comfort Siles or speak to Scott—mostly just to tell him he’s doing exactly what Derek was about to—, Lydia swoops in front of him, Dawn perched like a little angel on her hip.

“I’m warning you now, Hale,” she starts, voice pitched low so no one but Derek can hear her. “If you don’t take care of Stiles to the _very best_ of your ability _and_ make sure he has absolutely everything he could possibly need during this pregnancy, I _will_ kill you. Slowly. Painfully. And _dead_ , with no chances of you coming back to life.” Her expression goes from something sinister and threatening to friendly, like she _hadn’t_ just been talking about murder. “We clear?”

Derek doesn’t doubt for a minute that Lydia can and _will_ follow through with her threat, especially being a banshee, but it doesn’t really matter. He has no intention whatsoever to have Stiles lack for anything during the pregnancy. As far as Derek is concerned, if Stiles wants something, Derek will gladly give it to him.

He tells Lydia that much, looking her straight in the eye as he says, voice tipped low as well, “Trust me, Lydia, I would _never_ do anything to hurt the father of my cub.” He looks up to where Stiles is joking around with Scott and Kira, scent warm and rich like the day before, and _so good_ it kind of makes Derek’s mouth water.“I also promise that he’s gonna have _whatever_ he wants, from clothing to food toanything else he might ask for. Hell, I’d even buy him a new car if he wanted.”

“Everyone knows traffic in New York is awful,” Lydia says slowly, but Derek can tell by the faint twitch of her lips that she approves.

A strange expression also flashes across her face, one that Derek doesn’t quite recognize, almost like by hearing Derek’s words she knows something he doesn’t.

Whatever it is, Derek has a feeling he isn’t ready to deal with it just yet.

* * *

Stiles huffs and rolls his eyes pretty much all the way down to Derek’s car, trying really hard not to be annoyed about Scott and Derek hovering behind him as they all walk down the stairs.

He reminds himself that they’re _werewolves_ and they have crazy instincts about pregnancy and cubs and that it’s probably only going to get worse.

That doesn’t really make him feel much better.

When they get to the car, he has to press his lips together not to laugh, because Erica turns out to be _totally right_. Derek’s other car absolutely looks like a mom van. And Derek must know exactly what’s on his mind, because as soon as Stiles turns to him Derek narrows his eyes and shakes his head, as if telling him not to say anything about it. Stiles doesn’t, but he makes a mental note to make fun of him for it later.

He’s surprised when Jackson is the first person to scent mark him when they start saying their goodbyes, bringing his hand to Stiles’s shoulder and sticking his nose in Stiles’s hair just above his ear, whispering, “Don’t think I’ll be missing you that much.”

Stiles just snorts, bringing his hand up to mess up Jackson’s perfectly coiffed hair. “Don’t be that way Jacks, you know I’m the light of your life.”

He ducks away when he hears a low growl from Jackson, straight into Kira’s arms. She hugs him tight around the waist, rubbing her cheek against the side of his face. “I’ll see you every morning when Derek comes around for coffee.”

She winks when Stiles lets her go, and Stiles gives her a thumbs up for the tip.

Lydia and Dawn are next, and he steals Dawn away, spinning her around much to her delight and then bringing her close for extra kisses. Lydia just wraps her arms around both of them, and Stiles presses a kiss onto the top of her head as well.

“I know you threatened him,” Stiles whispers, pressing his lips together when he feels Lydia’s smile against his skin. “It wasn’t necessary, but thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Lydia says. “I have to make sure you’re okay. Otherwise, who’s going to talk math with me?”

Scott’s last, and he wraps Stiles up in a huge bear hug, nose in Stiles’s neck and just holds on for a moment.

“Halo date in a week right?” Scott says, almost tearfully.

Stiles grins, ruffling Scott’s messy hair and hugs him back. “Absolutely. Like I would ever miss that.”

“Unless you’re tired,” Scott says, giving him a pointed look. “Then we don’t have to. You’re living for two now, and sleep is important.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, even though he knows Scott only said that because he has his back. “Whatever you say, buddy.”

After another squeeze from Scott and kiss from Dawn, Stiles gets into the passenger seat of Derek’s car, telling Scott and the others that he’ll see them soon enough and that just because Derek is his baby daddy, it doesn’t mean he’s his keeper.

They all laugh at that, while Derek does his best to pretend he’s not horrified by Stiles’s words.

Derek stops by Scott before getting into the car, heads ducked and voices low as they talk. Stiles can’t really make out what they say, but Scott is smiling and waving at him when they leave, so he figures it wasn’t anything bad.

He still asks Derek about it, though, not liking being kept in the dark.

“We just exchanged numbers,” Derek tells him, giving him a small smile.

The drive to Derek’s is uneventful and just as slow as the last time. They spend the time catching up a little, talking about the last two weeks and about how their packs reacted to the news.

Derek tells him that Erica wants the baby to have Stiles’s eyes and he’s shocked, a little because he can’t imagine anyone wishing any of his features on a baby, but mostly because when he pictures a Hale baby, he pictures a tiny little thing with dark hair and Derek’s sea-foamy green eyes.

“Do you agree with her?” Stiles can’t help but ask, biting down on his bottom lip.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” Derek says slowly, before smiling. “But I can’t say that would be too bad.”

Stiles blushes.

And grins all the way to Derek’s apartment.

He notices nothing really changed much from the last time he was here as Derek opens the door and ushers him inside, telling him he’ll be back with his things in just a second.

“It’s gonna take more than a second,” Stiles raises an eyebrow at him. “And more than one trip. Even with all the muscles and your werewolf strength.”

“I’ll ask the the doorman to help,” Derek says. “You know where everything is. I’ll be back soon.”

Stiles shakes his head at Derek and makes his way to the kitchen. He’s feeling a little hungry after all the excitement of moving out, even though he didn’t really do anything to help. He opens the fridge and his face breaks into a smile, eyes going from the cartons of his favorite brand of orange juice to tons of fruit and actual Jell-O cups. In the freezer are strips of bacon, salmon, and ground up turkey and over in the single cupboard that Derek considers his pantry are bags of reduced salt potato chips and a single bag of spicy nacho Doritos.

It seems Derek’s been grocery shopping. For all of Stiles’s _favorite_ things.

He has got nine months of being completely and utterly spoiled ahead of him and _damn_ is he gonna enjoy it.

He grabs a Jell-O cup and an apple, biting into the apple as he makes his way to the guest room he stayed in last time.

There are new sheets on the bed and more towels in the bathroom, along with an actual laundry hamper, and various soaps, gels, and lotions on the counter. He sets his laptop bag down on the bed, and walks back out, just in time to see Derek walk in with the last of his things.

“I can help, you know?” Stiles huffs, making his point by grabbing one of the boxes Derek’s carrying and placing it on the floor.

“Yes, but it’s not—”

“Good for the baby,” Stiles rolls his eyes, _again._ He has a feeling he’s gonna be doing a lot of that in the future. “I know.”

Derek gives him a look but doesn’t say anything, instead making sure none of Stiles’s things are blocking the way to the door or to his room.

Stiles finishes his apple and starts on his Jell-O cup as he watches him, taking in the lines of Derek’s shoulders, his muscles rippling under his shirt, the way his ass looks in his jeans whenever he bends over to pick something up.

He stops that line of thought quickly, though, when Derek can so easily smell his attraction. He doesn’t want things to get awkward between them, especially now that they’re going to be living together for the next nine months.

“I can help you unpack, if you want,” Derek says, eyes sweeping over all the boxes now occupying his living room.

“Nah, you can just tell me where I should put all my stuff and I’m good to do it alone.”

“You can make yourself at home,” Derek says, frowning a little. “This is going to be your apartment as much as mine until the baby comes, and I want you to feel comfortable here. You’re not a guest. I don’t want you to feel like you have to be careful about your things or what you do while you’re here.”

Stiles blinks, mouth parting in surprise, because he was _not_ expecting that. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Derek says firmly. “Don’t feel like you need my permission to make space for your things. Not only in the guestroom but also in the books and DVD shelves in the living room. And if there are any types of food you’d like to have in the house that I forgot to buy, you can make a list and leave it on the kitchen counter. I’ll take care of it.”

Stiles continues to gape at him, completely taken aback by the way Derek’s allowing him to treat his place like a temporary home, treating Stiles as a housemate rather than just a guest. It’s really much more than he’d expected.

He watches Derek walk over to a sink counter and he pulls out a yellow manila envelope, turning it over and dumping out the contents. Derek picks up a keychain with a couple keys on it and hands it over while explaining, “There’s one to the apartment and one to your room if you want to lock it. The card on the chain is an access one. It’ll get you into the building, the garage, the swimming pools, all of it. Just swipe and you’re good to go.”

Stiles takes the keys carefully, and Derek hands him a bright blue credit card. The weight of it is heavy in his hands, and Stiles can only imagine what sort of limit it’s got.

“This is for you,” Derek keeps going. “You can use it to buy food, clothes, books, anything you think you are going to need. It’s got a twenty five thousand dollar max, though, so don’t go too crazy.”

Stiles makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat. He’s never had a credit card with a maximum more than a thousand dollars. This is way too much.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Derek cuts him off, handing him a crisp white business card as he does so. “This is the information for the car company my firm uses. I’ve already put your name on the account, and I want you to _use them_ anytime you want to go somewhere.”

Stiles stays quiet.

He doesn’t know what to say about all of this.

All he knows is how _overwhelming_ this feels all of a sudden. Growing up he’d never really had unlimited amounts of money and even _that_ had come to a grinding halt upon graduating college and the disastrous book sales after his first best-seller.

He keeps trying to make sense of it as Derek sticking to their agreement. Derek did say he would provide for him if the pregnancy took, and this is exactly what he’s doing now.

But, despite that, Stiles can’t help but feel like this is all a little too much. Like he’s not doing enough to deserve all of this, nevermind that he’s actually _carrying Derek’s child inside of him_ and is going to _give him a son or daughter_.

He doesn’t tell Derek as much, though, keepingit all to himself, figuring he’ll get used to it as the months pass.

Instead, he works on settling in, getting comfortable once again in Derek’s space. In _their_ space.

He unpacks and makes the apartment a little less Derek’s, a little more Derek’s _and_ his, moving his things in and rearranging some of Derek’s, taking what Derek said to heart and not hesitatingas he starts turning this place a home.

His home.

At least for the foreseeable future.

And, later, he tries not to think about the fact that the guest bed feels kind of empty and cold when he goes to sleep that night.

Doesn’t think about how Derek’s huge and comfy bed is just a little more than ten feet away.

With Derek _in_ it.

And he _definitely_ doesn’t think about when he was in it the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update will be **Friday, July 11th around 5pm EST.**


	9. You show me that my destiny’s with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first three weeks of living at Derek’s apartment are, well, kind of awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am _sorry_ for the wait guys, but here’s the next chapter! IT WAS ALL MY FAULT. I had a crazy long work week and then I got sick and then really didn’t do my part writing this chapter. SO sorry :(. —P  
>  Chapter title from [Pop Goes My Heart (Hugh Grant)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xVkU8dDSC9w&feature=kp). And as usual, here’s the [Settle Down 'Verse Breakdown](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/sdch) in case you need it.  
> xoxo,  
> J & P

The first three weeks of living at Derek’s apartment are, well, kind of awkward.

They didn’t really have to learn how to share a space during Stiles’s heat week, considering they pretty much spent all their times either at Derek’s bedroom, bathroom, or living room. But now, things are different. They need to get used to actually _living_ together.

It goes slowly.

Stiles learns that Derek wakes up around six in the morning in order to do some sort of workout before work, showers, eats breakfast around eight thirty, and leaves the apartment around nine. This is something Stiles is definitely going to have to get used to, since he doesn’t have to get up before noon if he doesn’t want to, and the sound of Derek moving around the apartment sometimes wakes him up.

He’s usually gone until about five or six, though he does come home on some days for lunch. He says that as long as he doesn’t have a lunch meeting, he prefers to eat at home. Derek also always makes sure to leave Stiles a note letting him know about his whereabouts, and he calls Stiles about once a day to make sure everything’s okay.

He realizes fairly quickly that Derek’s sort of a workaholic. He works with a sort of laser focus, something Stiles knows because Derek often brings home blueprints or contracts to look over during the evening.

He wonders if that’s going to change once the baby comes. He certainly hopes so.

The first time Stiles wakes up from a late evening nap to see Derek sketching on the couch in the living room he nearly has a heart attack.

Because Derek is wearing _glasses_. And he is _barefoot_ in thin sweat pants and a soft looking sweater. And he looks _absolutely gorgeous_ , his eyes glancing from the blank page to the view of the park from his window, fingers working in quick strokes as he sketched.

Stiles kind of forgets how to breathe while he’s watching Derek. And he is also hit with the desperate urge to just curl up next to him and stay there for the rest of the day.

Instead, he grabs his own laptop and opens the a random doc, typing pretty much aimlessly as he sneaks glances at Derek. He doesn’t manage to up his wordcount by a lot, though, moving on to read Wiki articles or things on Reddit whenever he gets frustrated with his writing. It happens more than he’d like to admit, but he reasons he still has nine months to come up with something good.

They get into a routine eventually.

Evenings are spent amiably in their shared space, Stiles making something before Derek gets home on most days—it’s only fair, since Derek always leaves breakfast ready for him—, and the days he doesn’t, they go out for dinner.

“We have to enjoy it while it lasts,” Stiles says as his eyes scan over the menu of the Mexican restaurant they’re at. “Because it won’t take long before my morning sickness starts and I end up miserable and throwing up everything I eat.”

Stiles notices Derek frowning at that, mouth thinning in concern, and he knows that once they get home Derek will probably get ahold of his iPad and come up with at least five different ways to help morning sickness.

It’s kind of cute but mostly annoying. Stiles figures he’ll leave it for now, let Derek do what he thinks he needs to do, and he’ll only complain if it starts to be too much. He’s not one to keep his mouth shut when things are bothering him, and this time will be no different.

There are restrictions, though, that don’t make it possible for Stiles to just eat whatever he wants before he starts throwing them back up again.

Not being able to drink coffee is maybe the worst of them though. According to the doctor, he’s technically allowed to have one cup a day, but Stiles doesn’t remember the last time he limited himself to a single cup. It’s better for him to just go cold turkey instead of attempt to limit his intake.

It sucks. A _lot_.

Other than that, he’s not supposed to eat raw fish (which is no big loss), lunch meats (that he can live with), and alcohol.

At least Derek, in a seriously adorable show of support, is also not eating any of that. You know, aside from the coffee. Which Stiles can forgive him for, with the whole waking up super early in the morning thing.

But that’s just another thing he’s going to have to get used to in the long list of things he’s going to have to get used to now that he’s pregnant and living with Derek.

Stiles spends his time much the same way he did on that first day he stayed at Derek’s apartment during heat week. And by that he means getting frustrated when he doesn’t manage to write something that doesn’t suck, making use of Derek’s Netflix account, and eating. A lot.

He also checks in with his dad regularly, making sure to keep him updated on what’s going on. In one of their Skype sessions Stiles even gives him a tour of the apartment, going as far as opening the fridge to show his dad Derek isn’t starving him to death.

“Is that juice?” his dad asks, and Stiles sees him squinting as if trying to get a better view.

“Yup,” Stiles grins, bringing his laptop closer to the fridge. “He got all my favorites.”

“I’ll say. It looks like he bought the whole grocery store.”

Stiles laughs at his dad’s incredulous tone, his stomach fluttering. Because yes, that’s kind of exactly what Derek did.

“I’ll make sure to call you sometime when he’s around,” Stiles says, sitting down at the dining room table. He has to adjust the angle of his laptop screen so his dad will see his face again. “That way maybe you’ll stop worrying about me and see he’s a good guy. I mean, he does look kind of grumpy, but I think that’s just his resting face.”

“I’ll always worry about you,” the Sheriff rolls his eyes. “And I already know he’s a good guy. Scott and Lydia made sure to call me and tell me all about him. And the background check I did on him provided me with a picture.”

Stiles groans, because _his friends_ and _his dad_. Seriously.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Stiles says dryly, lips twitching when he dad outright grins at him. “Really, though. You know I’m good. He’s taking good care of me. No complaints.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Stiles also calls Scott at least once a day to catch up; not that he doesn’t already know everything that’s going on because they text all the time. Kira’s usually around for their calls, so sometimes Stiles ends up chatting with her too.

He takes her advice to accompany Derek one morning when he goes by the _Little Fox Cafe_ , making the sacrifice of waking up before eight in the morning, showering, and getting dressed. He’s a little slow on the way over, not entirely awake since he’s missing his morning coffee, and he ends up not stepping out of the way more often than usual and bumping into people.

Derek goes tense whenever that happens, and the fourth time Stiles accidentally bumps shoulders with someone, he finds himself being pulled against Derek’s side, one of Derek’s arms coming around his waist.

Stiles makes a little shocked noise, twisting his head to blink up at Derek in confusion.

“You’re like an accident waiting to happen this early in the morning,” Derek grumbles. “This is better.”

Stiles can’t exactly deny any of those points. So he leans against Derek’s side, letting himself be dragged along, sighing in relief at not having to pay that much attention to where he’s going or who’s in front of him. He knows Derek will keep him from walking into anything or anyone.

It takes a couple of seconds for his brain to realize what he’s seeing when they step into the coffee shop, but as soon as he does he can’t help but grin.

“Hey, dude!”

Stiles walks up to Scott and pulls him into a hug, almost knocking the cup of coffee on the table with his hand. The only reason he doesn’t is because Derek comes up behind him and pushes it away.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asks, hugging him tight.

“Someone texted me this morning saying you’d be here,” Scott smiles when he pulls back. “Hi, Derek.”

“Scott,” Derek nods, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“You…,” Stiles trails off, staring at Derek.

“I thought it’d be good if we had breakfast together,” Derek says casually.

Or at least _tries_ to say casually, failing miserably when the tips of his ears turn pink.

“Thanks,” Stiles says, finding Derek’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

“No problem,” Derek shakes his head, squeezing back.

“Here, why don’t we sit down,” Scott says. “Kira will be here soon.”

Stiles sits, scooting a bit over in the booth to make room for Derek to sit next to him, and looks up at him curiously when he doesn’t sit down.

Derek’s looking at him, though he’s got his head angled towards the counter. “I thought I’d go grab us drinks.” His eyes flit down to Stiles’s stomach briefly. “I’ll make yours a decaf.”

Stiles smiles at him appreciatively and nods, turning to Scott slowly as he watches Derek walk away.

Only to see Scott looking at him with a smug, knowing expression. “So, two weeks together, huh? How’s it going?”

Stiles blushes, but rolls his eyes. “It’s not like that and you know it. But if you want to know if everything’s alright at the apartment, then yes. It’s good. Like _really_ good. There’s like unlimited amounts of food and television and no one cares if I just lay about all day.”

Scott barks out a laugh, shaking his head a little. “Sounds like you found the perfect job, man. You’re basically getting paid to sit around and eat all day.”

Stiles grimaces.

He doesn’t really appreciate Scott’s comment, because it’s not like he’s not working hard to write a new book. It’s not all sitting around doing nothing all day, even if that’s what it looks like from the outside.

He’s not going to say anything about it, though, knowing Scott has heard it all after Stiles’s second book was less than a success.

“You wanna know what I do when I eat, Scott? I _read_.” He makes a face. “I read things about pregnancy. Apparently in the next nine months I will be farting and burping uncontrollably, and won’t that just be a _ball_ for all your little werewolf noses.”

Scott wrinkles his nose. Lucky for him, he’s saved from more explicit details when Kira shows up, smiling wide and wrapping Stiles up in a big bear hug.

“You two talking about the wonders of pregnancy?” Kira asks, sitting beside Scott.

“Not anymore,” Scott says firmly before Stiles can open his mouth.

Stiles sticks his tongue out at him.

“If you think I’m not going to call you and complain, you are mistaken,” Stiles sniffs, laughing when Scott sighs but nods.

Derek appears then, holding two cups of coffee and looking worried. Stiles isn’t sure how much of that he heard, but it’s obvious Derek isn’t happy about something.

He sits down next to Stiles slowly, watching his face intently, like Stiles is going to stop him. He sets both drinks down on the table and turns to Stiles, eyes cast downward, bunny teeth biting his bottom lip.

Before anyone can say anything however, a server brings by four plates of the Cafe’s breakfast special and they all dig in, mouths too full of chocolate chip pancakes to make any sort of conversation.

Derek got him a large mocha just like he had back during their coffee dates, and even though it is decaf, it tastes exactly the same to Stiles, and he can pretend for a bit that he is getting his daily dose of caffeine.

They get a plate of strawberries delivered to the table after all the pancakes disappear—Scott had graciously offered to eat the ones Kira couldn’t finish—and Stiles sees Derek blush as he mumbles something about antioxidants. He _has_ to figure out what the whole strawberry thing is about.

They chat as they eat, talking about anything and everything. Derek stills seems a bit off, though, even though he makes an effort to smile and join the conversation.

Stiles definitely notices him being a little withdrawn compared to the last time they did this, which makes _no_ sense. If anything, he’s more comfortable with Stiles now and this is the third time he’s hanging out with Scott and Kira, so he doesn’t understand what’s wrong.

They wrap up around ten, Scott saying that he needs to start a shift at the vet clinic, and Derek replies that he should be getting to work as well. Kira has already resumed her position behind the counter, so Scott heads over there to say good bye while Stiles and Derek head outside.

Stiles figures this is the best time to ask Derek about it, now that no one they know is around.

“Hey, Derek, is everything okay?”

“Sure,” Derek says slowly, avoiding eye contact.

Stiles sighs, curling his fingers around Derek’s coat and tugging. Derek stops walking, turning around so they’re face to face, his eyes lowered.

“Something’s obviously bothering you,” Stiles says. “And it’s something that happened between us getting to the coffee shop and you coming back with our orders. I’d like to know what it is.”

Derek huffs, mouth thinning, and it takes him a few seconds before he chances a glance up at Stiles.

Stiles just stares back, waiting. He knows that if he waits long enough Derek will cave and tell him what’s wrong. For an Alpha werewolf, he’s awful at staredowns. At least with Stiles.

“You—,” Derek starts, stops, tries again. “You know that if there’s anything you’re not okay with, you can come and talk to me about it, right? I’m always— I’ll listen. Always. To whatever you have to say.”

Stiles blinks, confused.

“Of course I know that.Like I’d ever be able to keep my mouth shut about something that I don’t like.”

Derek’s lips twitch at that, but he still looks concerned.

“It’s just— I heard you and Scott. What you said to him about calling and complai—”

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, letting out a relieved breath. “I wasn’t talking about you! I was just telling Scott about all the gross pregnancy stuff I learned from the Internet and that I’d call him to complain whenever they started happening to _me_.”

“Oh,” Derek says, surprised.

“Yes, oh,” Stiles says softly, sliding his hand down until he can lace his fingers with Derek’s. “I know I can talk to you. You’ve been really great at keeping the communication lines opened, which is kind of weird considering you don’t even talk that much. But yeah, I know I can come to you and talk and you’ll listen.”

“I—That’s good.”

“It is,” Stiles nods. “I appreciate it. And I’ll even complain about gross pregnancy stuff to you if you wanna.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” Derek says, licking his lips. “It’s important to me to know about the pregnancy and the baby and how you’re feeling about it. That way if you need any help I can offer it.”

Stiles snorts and squeezes Derek’s hand. “Yeah, we’ll see if you’re saying that when I'm humongous and farting uncontrollably.”

Derek wrinkles his nose a little, _almost_ too quick for Stiles to catch the motion, but not quite. It makes him laugh.

“Okay, get to work, Wolfmann. I’m gonna pop in next door to say hi to Mr. Y, and then Scott’s gonna walk me back to the apartment since he’s headed that way to the clinic.”

Derek nods, squeezing Stiles’s hand back before bringing his other hand up to stroke against his cheek, scent marking him before leaving.

Stiles walks towards the bookstore slowly, cheek tingling and warm where Derek touched it. He’s always been affectionate, and having Derek be so free with his touches—even if it’s just to scent mark him—settles something deep inside of him.

Mr. Y is at the registers in the front and Stiles bounds up to him, smiling widely and waving a hand in greeting.

“Hey Mr. Y. Ya miss me?”

Stiles starts messing with the piles of books near the counter, turning them around to read titles and then arranging them from biggest to smallest so they make a sort of tower.

He had told Mr. Y that he was quitting just before his heat week, saying that there was a chance he’d be back in three weeks groveling for his job back, however unlikely. He isn’t sure if Mr. Y cares that he’s pregnant, per say, but Stiles can’t help but stop by and share the news. Even if Kira probably already told him all about it. ~~~~

Mr. Y narrows his eyes at Stiles’s hands where they’re still playing with the books by the counter.

“Stop messing with the books, Stiles. You don’t work here anymore, remember?”

“Aww, come on, Mr. Y. It’s gotta be crazy quiet around here without me!”

Mr. Y sighs. “It _was_.” Hesmiles then, and pats Stiles on the shoulder. “I heard what you were doing for the Hale boy. If anyone needs this, it’s Derek. I wish you both all the best.”

Stiles feels a rush of warmth in his gut, whether it’s for Derek or Mr. Y, he isn’t sure, but he knows that it makes him feel all fuzzy inside.

“Thanks, Mr. Y, I really appreciate that. From what I can tell, Derek is a great guy.”

“He is. My wife has known that family for an incredibly long time, she and Talia Hale have solved quite a few supernatural conundrums in the past while her husband and I sat back and let them handle it. They were always better at dealing with conflict than either of us.”

Stiles doesn’t know who Talia Hale is, but she’s obviously related to Derek. He’s suddenly overcome with the desire to know about Derek’s family. He hasn’t heard anything about _any_ of them from Derek, aside from a few comments here and there that made Stiles think they’re not around anymore.

“It was such a tragedy when—” Mr. Y continues, making Stiles’s blood run cold at the heartache in his voice. “Anyways, this a very good things you’re doing. It’s going to be so good for Derek and his pack.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says quietly, mind reeling. “It will be.”

 He’s still thinking about Mr. Y’s words after he goes back to the apartment, eyes scanning the living room and taking in the fact that Derek has no pictures of people who could be related to him around. Aside from a few photos of him with Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and even some with Kira present, his walls and shelves are pretty empty.

It leaves Stiles with a sinking feeling in his gut, wondering what could have happened to them. He doesn’t think Derek will tell him, not if Stiles asks him about it. And it doesn’t feel right for him to go looking for that information when Derek hasn’t made any effort to share what happened with him.

Stiles hopes that’ll change.

And, when he splays his hand flat on his stomach, he also hopes to fuck Mr. Y is right—that this child will be exactly what Derek Hale needs in his life.

* * *

For the first time in what feels like forever, Derek actually actively looks forward to going home at the end of the work day. 

He doesn’t know if it’s _Stiles_ per say, or just the fact that he has someone to go home _to_ , someone who’s going to be there to hang out if he wants to is a nice change of pace. A _great_ change of pace. It makes his wolf content in a way it hasn’t been since the betas lived with him.

He pretty much leaves work at five thirty sharp these days, barring any sort of meeting or emergency. Usually, by six fifteen he’s home and changing out of his work clothes, opting for a shirts and sweatpants to lounge around in, and at six thirty, Stiles usually has dinner ready for them.

The first time Derek had come home to a home cooked meal by Stiles he’d been shocked. He’d kind of gotten the impression that Stiles didn’t like to cook, or was no good at it, given how he raved about Derek’s mediocre meals. 

What he found instead was that Stiles’s skills outdid his own, and once he found out Derek was in no way a picky eater, he made it a point to try and make something different every night they ate in, often scoping the internet for new recipes and trying them out based on the groceries they had. 

The evening after the breakfast with Scott and Kira, Derek comes home to the most amazing smell of shrimp stir fry. 

His mouth waters, stomach growls, and heart tugs in his chest at knowing Stiles made the effort to prepare dinner before Derek came back from work.

That feeling only gets even worse when he gets to the kitchen to see Stiles wearing the _Kiss the Cook_ apron Erica bought him three Christmas ago and dancing around, mouthing the words to _Can’t Buy Me Love_ which is playing in the background as he finishes getting everything ready.

Stiles looks at home, comfortable in Derek’s space, and _that_ more than anything says he took what Derek said to him when he first moved in to heart. Derek didn’t view him as a guest in his apartment, so Stiles shouldn’t either. They are housemates.

Derek doesn’t make a sound as he leans against the bar, crossing his arms over his chest and letting his lips curl into a small smile. He watches Stiles silently, taking in the way his muscles move under his shirt, the lines of his arms and hands as he works, the movements of his hips whenever he decides to add a little dance to his lip-syncing.

It’s when Stiles does this silly shimmy, shaking his ass in a way that’s both silly and captivating that Derek reveals his presence, mostly because he can’t keep himself from chuckling at how ridiculous Stiles looks.

He’s rewarded with Stiles spinning around and flailing, his sock-clad feet skidding on the floor and almost making him fall flat on his ass. The only reason he doesn’t is because Derek’s in front of him in a second, arms going around Stiles’s waist to pull him upright.

Derek can feel Stiles’s nails digging into his biceps, the quick thudding of Stiles’s heartbeat against his chest, his breath ghosting over Derek’s cheek. They’re so close together it would only take Derek tilting his head slightly to get their lips to meet.

“Oh,” Stiles breathes out, pink lips parted gorgeously and pupils dilated in surprise.

And Derek—

Well, _Derek—_

Derek clears his throat and steps away, only keeping his hands on Stiles’s hips to make sure he’s steady on his feet before dropping them by his sides.

“Sorry I startled you,” Derek says awkwardly. “I should have made some kind of noise to let you know I was home.”

“That’s, uh, that’s okay,” Stiles shakes his head, shifting on his feet. “I should have being paying more attention. I know how quiet you wolves can be. Stalking your prey and all.”

Derek has to swallow back around the lump in his throat at the thought of _Stiles_ and _prey_. He wonders if Stiles would enjoy being chased, if he would make a game out of it, make Derek work for the privilege of catching him at the end. And then he stops that train of thought right then and there, because Stiles _isn’t_ prey and Derek has _no_ claims to him.

So Derek just shakes his head at him, more to clear his own thoughts than anything, and changes the subject.

“You cooked dinner?”

“Oh, yeah,” Stiles says, suddenly shy. He looks at the mess he made of Derek’s kitchen, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. “I hope you don’t mind. I don’t really cook much because the kitchen at my apartment is not exactly what you would call a kitchen _at all_ , but I thought I’d make something for us. I know how hard you work all day and it’s not exactly fair for you to come home only to work even more in the kitchen so, yeah. I thought I’d give it a try. I’m a little rusty, though, so things might not taste as good as when you make them.”

Derek takes a deep breath at that, nose filling with the delicious scent of Stiles’s cooking. He doubts it will taste as amazing as it smells. And, even if it didn’t, the fact that it is _Stiles_ that made it already makes this a worthy meal in Derek’s book.

“I’m sure it’s great,” Derek tells him, smiling a little. “I’m just going to freshen up and change into something more comfortable. Meet you in the living room?”

“Sure thing,” Stiles nods, smiling back. “It’ll give me time to tidy things up a little bit.”

“Don’t do the dishes,” Derek points a finger at him. “That’s the least I can do after you cooked.”

Stiles laughs, the sound of it washing over Derek and making his shoulders relax.

“I’ll make sure to leave things as messy as possible, then.”

“Can’t wait,” Derek deadpans, before turning around and walking to his room.

Stiles has already made himself comfortable when Derek steps into the living room, claiming his spot in the right corner of Derek’s couch. It kind of warms something inside of Derek that he associates that place as _Stiles’s,_ especially given the way Stiles favors it and the way his scent is gradually embedding itself into the sofa cushions.

Their plates are resting on Derek’s coffee table, along with glasses—water for Derek and orange juice for Stiles—and napkins, and Derek doesn’t waste any time before grabbing his and handing the other to Stiles.

“Preferences?” Stiles asks as he pulls up Netflix, his fingers brushing against Derek’s when he takes his plate.

“Anything but that teenage wolf show,” Derek says firmly, and quickly adds when Stiles opens his mouth, “Or _Bones_. I don’t need to see any dead bodies, blood, or bugs when I’m eating.”

Stiles pouts.

Derek refuses to give in.

“Fine,” Stiles sighs. “We’ll watch _Parks and Rec_ instead. I know how much you see yourself in Ron.”

Derek scowls.

“See?” Stiles grins. “It’s like you’re the same person.”

“Just put on the show and eat your food,” Derek grumbles, but his lips twitch up when Stiles laughs at him.

They spend the rest of the night like that, on the couch, watching tv shows and talking—except for the fifteen minutes Derek spends doing the dishes. Stiles asks Derek about his day and Derek, in turn, asks Stiles how things are going with his book. Stiles evades the question, asking Derek instead about how his betas are doing and they talk for a bit about how Erica and Lydia had dinner together the other day.

They also contemplate the possible world changing ramifications of said dinner.

It’s a nice evening, one Derek wouldn’t mind a repeat of in the months to come.

But as enjoyable as it is, and as much as he’d like it to continue it even longer, he finds himself yawning and fighting to keep his eyes open at around eleven thirty at night.

“You should go to bed,” Stiles says softly. “You don’t have to worry about keeping me company if you’re tired. I have plenty of stuff to distract me right here.”

Derek rolls his eyes when Stiles pats his laptop lovingly. It found its way to Stiles’s lap after they finished dinner, and Stiles has been alternating between the latest on Reddit and watching tv.

“Are you sure?” Derek asks, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth when he yawns again.

He knows he doesn’t have to keep Stiles company, knows the apartment is locked tight and safe, but that still doesn’t mean he doesn’t worry about leaving Stiles and, by extension,his cub, alone. His protective instincts have been going a little crazy since the pregnancy was confirmed by Dr. Deaton, and this is just one of the ways it shows.

Nevermind that they have been doing this for three weeks and this conversation always ends the same way.

“I am,” Stiles nods. “And I won’t even make a comment about your old person bedtime.”

“How nice of you,” Derek snorts.

“I think so too,” Stiles sniffs, barely hiding his smile.

“I think I’ll head to bed, then,” Derek says. “If you’re sure.”

“Go ahead, dude. I wouldn’t want to be the reason you’re grumpy and sleep deprived at work tomorrow.”

Derek gives Stiles a flat look, getting up slowly from the couch. He stretches whenhe stands, his shirt riding up as his arms go over his head, and a second later he has to bite the inside of his cheek as the faint scent of Stiles’s arousal reaches his nose.

When he turns to Stiles it’s to see his eyes glued to the waistband of Derek’s sweats, his cheeks flushed red, throat working as he swallows. Derek feels his own face heat in response, his wolf preening at knowing Stiles likes what he sees.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Derek says as he leaves, stopping only to run a hand over Stiles’s hair and along the back of his neck.

“Yes, Dad,” Stiles teases, wrapping his fingers around Derek’s wrist and giving it a squeeze.

Derek’s heart skips a beat at that, and his voice comes out a little shaky when he says, “Good night, Stiles.”

“Night, Derek.”

And Derek, like every night after Stiles moved in, goes back to his empty room and falls asleep to the sound of Stiles’s heartbeat while Stiles stays up for a few more hours watching TV and typing idly on his laptop.

Only to wake up some days to his phone ringing and Erica’s name flashing across the screen.

More often than not it’s her updating him on her and Boyd’s life as she sits on the subway on her way to work. Usually, Derek just puts the phone on speaker and grunts out one word responses in between workout sets.

That is, until she calls— _highly_ out of the ordinary—on a Saturday morning, three days after the breakfast with Scott and Kira; the _one_ day a week Derek likes to sleep in.

So much for that.

“Get your pretty ass out of bed and get dressed,” Erica says after he answers, sounding way too chirpy for this early in the morning. “It’s been three weeks since Stiles moved in and Isaac and Boyd haven’t met him yet. We’re coming over.”

Derek is about to tell her to _not dare come by before lunch_ when she hangs up on him. He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face before throwing the covers back and getting up, all the while wondering why he ever thought biting her was a good idea.

Despite being commanded to get up right away, Derek does so lazily, lounging in bed on his iPad for a bit, checking various investments, his emails, and the day’s news. He foregoes his workout that day, figuring he’ll do something extra tomorrow, and goes for a shower around ten.

He spends nearly a half hour in there, reveling in the hot spray on his back, and if he flashes back to a couple nights ago and the scent of Stiles’s arousal, using the memory of it to get himself off once or thrice, well.

No one knows about it but him.

He can hear the slightly elevated sound of Stiles’s heartbeat when he gets out, signaling that he’s awake, and by the sounds of it, flipping through a comic book.

He walks towards Stiles’s room, hesitating for a moment before rapping his knuckles on the door a couple times in quick succession, and then steps back and waits.

He can hear Stiles’s shuffling around, seemingly tangled in the sheets for a good thirty seconds before thumping his way to the floor and stumbling his way to the door.

Stiles opens the door quickly, and Derek just stares. He’s wearing grey, soft looking sweatpants and a thin white v-neck, and only one sock.

It’s ridiculous how endearing it is.

He hasn’t had the opportunity to see Stiles like _this_ since his heat. You know, sleep-rumpled with his hair messy all _over_ , eyes half mast and clothes soft looking and wrinkled. Meaning: gorgeous.

Derek thinks for a second about how, if his kid gets Stiles’s perfect, big, honey-colored eyes, it’s going to be _so damn hard_ to ever say no to him. Or her. Derek doesn’t really have a preference as long as the baby is healthy.

He falters for a moment, and Stiles looks up at him blearily, before rubbing his eyes and crooking his eyebrows in a questioning manner.

Derek clears his throat before speaking, hoping to _God_ that the rush of emotions that just flooded through him are not apparent in his voice. “Erica called to say she’s coming by. And I’m pretty sure Isaac and Boyd are going to be with her.”

He pauses as Stiles’s eyes widen, and he realizes that he had promised Stiles a couple days notice before his pack came over.

“That is—I mean, only if you’re okay with it. I can call her back; tell her not to come,” he says finally, feeling increasingly nervous when Stiles doesn’t respond right away.

Instead Stiles blinks a few times in rapid succession, and brings one of his hands up to his hair, combing his fingers through the strands like that will tame them.

Derek’s not sure if he wants to be the one running his hands through Stiles’s hair or have Stiles’s hands on him.  

Stiles seems to finally register what Derek’s just said, because he flails backwards, stumbling over some books on the floor and grabs a towel that’s strewn haphazardly on the foot of the bed.

“No, Derek, don’t uninvite them! I’ve been _waiting_ to meet the rest of your pack.” He nods excitedly, suddenly wide awake and Derek has no idea how that happened so quickly without the aid of a few cups of coffee. “I’m just gonna go for a quick shower, yeah? I’ll be out in like twenty.”

Derek nods, but before he can say anything, Stiles is stripping his shirt off and striding into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door before Derek hears the shower curtain ruffling and the sound of the spray turning on. He doesn’t wait to see Stiles take any more articles of clothing off though; he doesn’t think he’d be able to just stand there and not join him.

Instead, he makes his way to the kitchen and calls the mom and pop bakery a couple blocks away, ordering five coffees (one a decaf mocha) and various pastries and crepes. He then calls Isaac (because Erica would never) and instructs him to pick up the food on his way over.

It’s not that hard to convince him. Isaac will do anything for a cherry danish.

He’s not surprised when Isaac is the first one to show up, precariously balancing a four-cup-holder thingy over a large white box. He helps Isaac set everything down on the table carefully, eyes softening when Isaac grabs a nutella crepe and a danish, foregoing coffee completely to dig into the food.

Derek grabs a crepe with fresh strawberries in it and a blueberry scone, though not before chugging down half his cup of coffee.

They both pause eating when they hear Stiles shuffling around in his room, and then both turn their heads to the door when it unlocks and Stiles walks out.

“Uh, hello?” Stiles waves hesitantly when he spots Isaac, glancing from him to Derek and back again.

“Stiles, this is Isaac, my first Beta,” Derek says, giving him a reassuring smile. It’s important to him they at least like each other since Stiles will be around for quite a while and Isaac is pack. “Isaac, this is Stiles. I’m sure you’ve already heard a lot about him from Erica.”

Isaac takes one look at Stiles’s Marvel themed graphic tee and beams, waving him over excitedly and asking him about some Guardian movie that’s coming out. Stiles looks surprised at first, but that quickly turns to into excitement as he and Isaac start discussing the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Stiles shoots Derek a sweet, pleased smile when he catches Derek looking at them, and his eyes light up in pure joy when he finally sees all the pastries on the table.

He grabs the coffee labelled _decaf_ in huge black letters and a chocolate croissant, and chatters back and forth with Isaac over some movie or another, complaining about some casting choices and applauding others.

Derek just listens fondly, content in knowing his packmate and his surrogate are getting along.

Erica shows up nearly an hour later, with Boyd in tow. Stiles’s (pretty much default) content smile turns into a full on ecstatic grin when he sees her, and jumps up immediately to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

It’s just _proof_ of how charmingStiles is when Boyd doesn’t even react to Stiles rubbing his scent all over his mate, just nods in his direction once and swipes a blueberry muffin from the box.

“You already know Erica,” Derek says once they’re all sitting around the table. “And this is Boyd, her mate.”

“Nice to meet you, dude,” Stiles smiles at him. “I’ve heard only good things about you from Lydia.”

“And they’re all true,” Boyd says flatly, lips curling up when Stiles barks out a surprised laugh.

“That’s right. Boyd’s the best,” Erica smiles sweetly at him, getting on her tiptoes so she can kiss his cheek. She turns back to Stiles, then, noting how close he and Isaac are sitting. “And I see you’ve met Isaac and haven’t run away screaming yet.”

Derek shakes his head as he watches Erica smirk when Isaac playfully growls at her. Sometimes it really does feel like he’s surrounded with children.

But Stiles just laughs, loud and bright, and punches Isaac lightly in the shoulder. “He has good taste in comics. That makes him alright in my book.”

“Thank you,” Isaac preens, grinning when Erica rolls her eyes.

Soon enough Erica joins in the conversation about comics and movie adaptations, and before he knows it, Derek’s been roped in to watching several X-Men movies—all of which Stiles owns—with Stiles and his betas, and finds himself half listening to Erica and Stiles’s inane comments about underlying UST between two of the characters.

Later, Derek orders Chinese food for dinner—sort of a tradition dinner with the betas—and can’t help but be pleased and a bit smug and _really_ happy with the sight of Stiles getting along so well with his pack.

It says good things about the coming months. _Very_ good things.

* * *

The five weeks of pregnancy mark hits with Stiles bending over the toilet of the guest bathroom and hurling his guts out.

It’s been four days of this, of morning sickness and not being able to keep anything down, and Stiles is ready to lie down on the tiled floor and die. His mouth tastes awful, his stomach hurts, and he’s sore all over. He’s sure giving up would be considered a mercy right now.

Stiles knows Derek’s worried. His expression has been set in a permanent frown since Stiles woke up one morning and rushed to the bathroom just in time to empty his stomach. Especially since no amount of ginger ale or crackers or _anything_ Derek could offer him helped when the nausea hit.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take your pain?” Derek asks nervously.

They’re sitting side by side and leaning against the bathtub; Derek has one hand rubbing circles on Stiles’s back, and the other pressing a cold washcloth to the back of Stiles’s neck. Stiles, for his turn, is pressed against him, his head on Derek’s shoulder, one of his hands curled against the front of Derek’s shirt.

This would feel kind of nice if Stiles wasn’t feeling so shitty already.

“You know doing that a lot makes me dozy,” Stiles says, voice raw. “I need to be alert so I don’t end up choking on my own vomit.”

Derek makes a distressed sound in the back of his throat, pressing in closer.

“We need to do something about this,” Derek tells him. “If you don’t want me to take you to the hospital than we should call someone.”

Stiles swallows thickly. He tends to avoid hospitals at all costs, not being a fan of them since his mom passed away, but he knows he can’t keep going like this. It’s not only a bad thing for his health to be throwing up pretty much constantly for four days, but he also has Derek’s cub he needs to be taking care of.

“Call Dr. Deaton,” Stiles says finally, lifting his head up a little so he can look up at Derek. “If he doesn’t tell us anything we don’t know or tried already, call Lydia. She’ll know what to do.”

“Okay,” Derek says, removing the cloth from Stiles’s neck. “You’re gonna be okay here? It’ll only take me a minute.”

“I’ll be fine,” Stiles tries for a smile. “I’m practically a pro at hurling my guts out already.”

Derek runs his fingers through Stiles’s hair once before letting go of him and getting up, going in search for his phone.

Stiles moves slightly so he’s now leaning his weight fully against the tub instead of Derek’s side, groaning when his muscles protest. It’s been around ten minutes since the last bout of morning sickness, so he figures he still has some time before it starts up again.

He closes his eyes, feeling tired. This many days of being sick really take it out of someone, and Stiles will take anycalm moment he has to rest a little. The cold tile floor, the hard porcelain of the tub against his back, and the less than comfortable position he’s in don’t even register.

It doesn’t take long for Derek to come back, though, finding his place by Stiles again. He doesn’t hesitate to carefully move them around until Stiles is practically sitting on his lap, his chest a line of warmth against Stiles’s side.

“Deaton told me that this was all perfectly normal for this time period of your pregnancy, and that it would just go away on it’s own. All I’m supposed to do is keep you upright and drinking lots of fluids,” Derek says in a tone that suggests he’s not too pleased about that course of action. “So I called Lydia. She said she’ll be here in twenty and she’s bringing someone along who has experience with this kind of thing.”

“That’s good,” Stiles sighs in relief. “Really good. So good I think I’m feeling a little better already.”

Derek offers him a small smile, and then makes a show of tilting his head down and sniffing him.

“Glad to hear it, because I think you could use a shower.”

“Are you trying to tell me I stink?” Stiles gasps, faux-offended.

“Like puke and stale sweat,” Derek grimaces. “It’s not a good scent on you.”

Stiles leans away from Derek, glaring at him without any real heat and grumbles, “I can’t tell if you’re insulting me, or trying to backhand compliment my scent? Either way, you’re bad at this.”

Derek snorts, and shuffles around, getting up and then helping Stiles to his feet and nudging him not-so-subtly towards the shower.

“How’s this for a compliment? If I didn’t like the way you smelt, then we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Stiles grabs the railing next to the shower curtain and stares at Derek, surprised. Derek’s just basically admitted one of the most important factors in him choosing Stiles as his surrogate was his scent. And while Stiles knows scent counts a lot with werewolves, he never really thought it’d be this much.

He doesn’t tell Derek any of that, though.

“You are _horrible_ at this, that was _not_ better,” Stiles jokes, trying to stay upright and fighting the urge to double over when his stomach and muscles protest.

Derek must notice his struggle because his mouth thins and he snakes an arm around Stiles’s waist, taking his weight.

“Are you going to be able to stand up while you shower?”

Stiles gulps, because he doesn’t think so.

“I can always just sit down in the tub?”

Derek makes a face at him, and then gets this focused look on his face, as if he’s considering something.

“I could—,” Derek stops, hesitating.

“You could?” Stiles says slowly, poking Derek in the stomach so he keeps going.

“I could help you,” Derek says, fingers digging a little against Stiles’s hip. “Shower, I mean. If that’s— I can hold you up, or maybe take a little of your pain if it gets too bad. I don’t want you to slip or fall down if you start feeling nauseous again.”

Stiles’s mouth parts, wide eyes blinking up at Derek.

On any other day, the thought of Derek seeing him naked and helping him shower would most _definitely_ turn Stiles on. This time, though, he’s only grateful that he won’t have to keep himself up and move around by himself.

He feels weak, shaky, sore, and tired, and knowing Derek will be there to help him and make things easier on him means a lot to him.

“Yeah,” Stiles sighs, resting his forehead on Derek’s shoulder. “Yeah, that’d be nice of you. If you don’t mind doing it.”

“I don’t,” Derek says firmly, reaching a hand out to turn the nozzle and then waiting for the water to warm up. “Do you need help getting undressed?”

Stiles nods. “I think I need help doing about everything right now.”

“That’s okay,” Derek rests one of his hands against the back of Stiles’s neck, squeezing. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Derek helps Stiles out of his clothes slowly, stopping every now and then to glance up at Stiles’s face and make sure he’s doing okay. As attracted as they both have proven to be with each other, Stiles likes that there’s nothing sexual about this. It’s just Derek being there for him, taking care of him, understanding what Stiles needs in that moment.

Stiles lets out a breath of relief when he gets under the spray, straightening his hunched over shoulders as the water massages his tense muscles. Derek’s shower heads are _amazing_ the water pressure is perfect, and the water is heated to an amazing temperature.

He just stands there placidly as Derek lathers shampoo into his hair and massages his temples, scratching his scalp as he does so and getting his clothes all wet for his efforts, and Stiles sort of zones out and enjoys the feeling of Derek’s hands on his body and the fact that his stomach is not rebelling against him.

The next thing he’s aware of is Derek wrapping a huge towel around Stiles and guiding him to the bed. He doesn’t complain when Derek helps him get dressed, too tired to be snarky just then, and obediently raises his arms and hips whenever Derek tells him to.

“You good to stay here while I go change?” Derek asks him, still kneeling between Stiles’s legs, wet clothes making a puddle on the floor.

“I’m just tired and achy, not incapable of doing things,” Stiles grumbles.

Derek rolls his eyes. “Good to know.”

Stiles has an errant thought about whether Derek’s ever entered a wet T-shirt contest while watching him get up and and walk out of the guest bedroom.

If he didn’t, he should probably consider it. Stiles is sure he’d be a winner.

There’s a knock on the door just as Stiles is pulling a pair of socks Derek left on the bed for him on, and Stiles heads over to open it, walking slowly and carefully while he mentally curses his body for betraying him.

He starts feeling _a little_ bit better when he opens the door and the first thing he sees is Dawn, perched on Lydia’s hip, sucking on a finger and cooing happily. Danny is standing behind them, hands in his pockets, wearing a sympathetic look on his face.

“You look horrible,” Lydia says, mouth tight in concern.

“You would be too if you’d been throwing up for four days straight.”

“Why do you think I decided not to have Dawn myself?” Lydia raises an eyebrow at him.

“Because you’re a very smart woman.”

“Exactly,” Lydia smiles sweetly at him. “That’s also why I brought Danny with me. If anyone can help you, it’s him.”

“I promise I’ll try my best,” Danny says solemnly.

“Good,” Stiles says, relieved. “Because I really can’t take this anymore.”

They all get inside, Stiles taking Dawn from Lydia and immediately pampering her entire face with kisses. She smiles and coos, tries to grab at his hair, and successfully gets hold of Stiles’s shirt and puts it in her mouth.

Stiles blinks down at her.

Dawn drools and keeps on sucking at the fabric.

He sits down on the couch per Lydia’s instructions, tucking his legs under him, and points her and Danny in the direction of the kitchen.

“We brought supplies,” Danny explains. “Some of these require preparation. We’ll bring them to you after they’re done.”

Derek appears a few minutes after that, in dry olive green henley and black, loose men’s yoga pants. He can probably hear Lydia and Danny in the kitchen, but instead of going to greet them he sits by Stiles’s side, eyes locked on Dawn.

Dawn considers him and blinks slowly. Derek looks mesmerized, eyes flitting over her face and the bow in her hair and the adorable striped white and purple onesie with a tutu skirt sewn on around the waist and a small bow on the side.He holds his arm out, hand hovering just about Dawn’s head and stops, eyesglancing up at Stiles and he looks uncertain.

Stiles grins and nods encouragingly. “She’s not going to bite, you know.”

He shuffles forward so Derek’s hand just barely brushes over Dawn’s soft hair and watches as Derek’s entire expression softenswhen he breathes in Dawn’s sweet baby smell and tangles his fingers delicately in her short pigtails.

Dawn leans into the touch, letting go of Stiles’s shirt so she can raise a hand up and bat at Derek’s forearm, fingers wet with spit. Stiles wrinkles his nose at that, but Derek doesn’t seem to mind.

He doesn’t even stop what he’s doing when Lydia and Danny come back to the living room—not like Stiles thought he would—, just looks at Lydia questionly to know if it’s okay for him to be this familiar with Dawn.

“We’re fine until she starts crying,” Lydia tells him, making herself comfortable in one of Derek’s armchairs.

“Here,” Danny says, offering Stiles a cup with steam rising from it. “It’s peppermint tea. It helped me a lot when I was expecting Dawn. I don’t know if you and Derek tried it already?”

“No, only rosemary,” Stiles says, trying to keep Dawn in his lap and grab the cup before she could get her little hands on it.

“I could—,” Derek starts, reaching for her. “I could hold her for you? If that’s okay.”

“It is,” Lydia is the one who answers, giving Derek a small smile. “Just be careful, she likes to chew on clothes.”

Stiles has to bite down on the inside of his cheek not to make an embarrassing sound when Derek scoops Dawn up and onto his lap, being so very careful with her and smoothing out her tutu skirt around her once she’s settled.

It’s adorable.

Stiles kind of wants to slide to the floor and never get up.

Instead he takes the cup from Danny, bringing it to his nose and sniffing. He needs to know if he won’t feel like puking from the smell of the tea before actually taking it.

When the first sniff of it doesn’t make him want to gag, Stiles takes a tentative sip. He’s bracing himself for having to run to the bathroom as soon as he swallows, but is surprised when relieved when drinking the tea does nothing more than leave a pleasant warmth in his chest.

“Oh, thank god,” Stiles gasps, slumping back on the couch, cradling the mug in his hands carefully.

He takes another slow sip, humming in pleasure when that one continues to soothe his stomach, and meets Derek’s eye. He’s holding Dawn on his knee, her back to his broad chest and is looking at Stiles over her head.

“Good?” He looks so _relieved_ and pleased _for_ Stiles that Stiles can’t help but think _again_ about how lucky he got with Derek.

He nods in response. “So far, yes.”

“That’s good.”

“It’s delicious,” Stiles says, and then turns to the others. “Danny, thank you _so_ much.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Danny shakes his head. “We also brought along some ginger candy and flavored popsicles. They should help too.”

“Flavored popsicles?” Stiles blinks, raising both eyebrows.

Danny shrugs. “It helped me.”

“Better than the lemons Derek made me suck on,” Stiles says, grimacing.

“They say it helps,” Derek huffs, trying to glare. He doesn’t succeed much, though, not when Dawn chooses that moment to bounce a little on Derek’s thigh, distracting him in to gazing lovingly down at her.

“By _they_ Derek means the Internet,” Stiles tells Lydia and Danny. “In case you were wondering.”

Danny snorts, while Lydia just rolls her eyes at them.

Stiles grins, glad he has someone close to one of his best friends that’s been through this before and is able to help him. The tea seems to be working, but he honestly has no idea what he’ll do if it turns out to be just a fluke.

“I tried lemons too, actually,” Danny says then, looking between Derek and Stiles. “They helped a little, but for me ginger worked best. It’s really just a matter of finding out what agrees with you the most. It’s not going to be the same thing for everyone.”

Stiles nods at that, considering what Danny’s just said. “Well, seems like peppermint is my thing.” He turns to Derek. “Please stock up on all things peppermint.”

Derek nods back, serious as always when it comes to something having to do with Stiles’s comfort, and shifts in his seat as though he’s getting ready to get up. “I’ll go today.”

Lydia looks between the two of them like she’s at a tennis match and smiles approvingly. “Don’t worry about that, Derek. We’ve brought quite a bit. I think you should be okay for a couple days at least.” She turns to Stiles, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “I would like to see you eat some actual food before I leave though. Do you think you feel up to trying something?”

“Like what?” Stiles asks, resting a hand on his stomach.

He’s not sure trying solid foods this soon is a good idea, but he’s willing to think about Lydia’s suggestion.

Lydia stands, heading towards the kitchen and calls over her shoulder, “Let’s try some raw veggies? Those shouldn’t be too bad. If you can keep that down, I’ll heat up the soup we brought and you can try that as well.”

Stiles groans happily, “Tell me it’s the chili from B&H.”

Lydia beams at him from the kitchen. “Of course it is. I know you must be missing it now that you don’t live as close to it as you used to.”

“You’re the best, Lydia Martin.”

Lydia brings the veggies out, all neatly chopped into bite size pieces on one of Derek’s plates and tells him to eat them _slowly_.

Stiles annoys her by taking ant-sized bites at a time and she nearly smacks him upside the head with a magazine.

Danny watches them interact with barely contained amusement, and flips the TV on to a Mets game, joining in the conversation now and again during commercials.

Dawn sits on Derek’s lap the entire time they’re there, falling asleep after a while against Derek’s chest and fussing when Lydia tries to take her away when they need to leave.

Derek thanks Lydia and Danny profusely after Stiles finishes his soup, shaking Danny’s hand and even giving Lydia a quick hug and Dawn a kiss on the cheek.

“You’re welcome to come visit any time,” Derek tells them. “And to bring Dawn with you.”

“Oh,” Lydia smirks, eyes sparkling. “We will.”

Stiles presses his lips together.

Somehow, given the dangerous look in Lydia’s eyes, he doesn’t think that’s really a good thing.

* * *

Derek’s sitting at the window seat in his room, trying to finish sketches for his newest project, a new high rise apartment complex that’s terribly similar to past projects. It’s no wonder then, that he’s distracted, hands working on autopilot to sketch the building while his mind wanders.

He thinks about how in the days since Danny visited, Stiles has been having an easier time with his morning sickness and almost never gets sick more than once a day.

It’s been _six weeks_ since Stiles moved in, and it’s beginning to feel so normal, so natural, that Derek almost can’t remember how he lived all alone for so long. It calms him to hear the soft sounds of Stiles puttering around, playing with this and that and cursing to himself every now and then when he’s writing or bursting out adorable huffs of laughter when he’s watching TV.

There’s also a weird noise in the apartment, something that started gradually a couple days ago. It’s sort of a buzzing noise almost but a little slower, softer, and _really_ distracting.And Derek can’t seem to find where it’s coming from, no matter how hard he looks.

He gives up on his sketching after only an hour. It’s not like he really _has_ to do that at home; he’s got weeks before the initial plans for this project are due.

Derek wanders out of his room and past Stiles’s, noticing that the bed is empty. He grabs a glass of water for himself, downing it before filling a second one for Stiles in case he needs it.

When he gets to the living room, it’s to the sight of Stiles napping on the couch, arm thrown over his eyes, shirt riding up,mouth open,and an old _Buffy_ episode playing softly on the screen.

He can hear Stiles’s heartbeat, steady in sleep like it almost _never_ is when the man is awake. In the past month and a half it has become one of the most soothing sounds in Derek’s life. It lets him know how Stiles is feeling more often than not; he knows when Stiles is excited or anxious or in pain. He knows that distinct pattern it’s got when Stiles is excited to see him, the uptick it gets when Stiles is irritated, and the way it slows way down whenever he’s about to fall asleep.

Today, Stiles’s heartbeat is as strong as ever, but Derek can’t concentrate on it properly because the distracting noise is getting louder as he walks towards the couch.

He tries to ignore it though, and takes a seat on the couch at Stiles’s feet, and flips the channel to the news, muting it and just sitting back and relaxing. Being around Stiles seems to have that effect on him, so it doesn’t take long before he’s slumped back on the couch, muscles loose.

He’d probably be able to fall asleep if he just closed his eyes, but he can’t seem to let his guard down because of the damn noise.

His eyes wander the room, flitting over possible sources of the noise before his eyes zero in on Stiles’s stomach.

Which—

Holy shit.

That’s—

The noise is the _baby’s heartbeat_.

It’s—

And Derek—

Derek can hear his _kid’s heartbeat_.

He inches closer, mesmerized by the sound, his own heart speeding up because of this realization, and he can’t seem to look away from Stiles’s  stomach.

It’s faster than his, faster than Stiles’s at his most excited, almost like the fluttering of a hummingbird’s wings.

It’s probably Derek’s new favorite sound in the entire world.

You know, followed by Stiles’s started shriek when he wakes up to see Derek’s face millimeters from his stomach.

That one is hard to explain his way out of.

He ends up claiming he thought he saw a bug trying to crawl its way up Stiles’s body, but it ended up being just a lint.

He doesn’t think Stiles buys it, with the way Stiles’s eyes narrow in suspicion as he looks up at Derek.

Derek isn’t surprised. It is a pretty lame excuse. To be honest, he’s actually a bit embarrassed at himself.

But he manages to brush off Stiles’s confused and suspicious looks by the next day, a full moon, while Stiles is too preoccupied with the arrival of Erica, Boyd, and Isaac to concentrate on what Derek is doing. And by doing Derek means listening to _his baby’s heartbeat_ and chancing glances at Stiles’s stomach.

And that’s something the betas pick up as soon as they get to the loft, faces breaking into bright smiles at being able to listen to the heartbeat of the newest member of the pack. They don’t say anything about it to Stiles, though, keeping their mouths shut when Derek gives them a stern look and whispers under his breath he doesn’t want Stiles to know just yet.

The five— _six_ —of them spend the night at Derek’s apartment, stuffing themselves full with the food Derek ordered and dancing and playing around when the pull of the moon makes them restless. Stiles watches them, lips curled in a grin, his hand resting on the barely there swell of his stomach.

And this? This is probably the best full moon Derek’s had since his family was alive.

* * *

Stiles is really excited for his week eight doctor's appointment.

Yes, he’s going to be stuck with a needle and that _still_ sucks, but this week is going to be better.

Dr. Deaton is going to perform an _ultrasound_. It'll be Stiles’s first one since he found out he was pregnant, and he can’t _wait._ He’s finally going to be able to see the little peanut he’s creating.

He can tell Derek is excited too, because he keeps looking from Stiles’s stomach to his face, smiling softly and ushering him along with a hand on the small of his back. He does that both carefully and eagerly, like he wants to get to the doctor’s office quickly but also wants to make sure nothing happens to Stiles on the way there.

Greenberg greets them hello when they get to TOL, telling them a nurse will come get them shortly.

Stiles flips through a parenting magazine, mostly because of the cute baby on the cover, and finds that none of it really applies to him. The articles are mostly directed to supernatural moms and dads to be and, being human, Stiles doesn’t find any use for them.

They’re in the exam room soon enough though, and the nurse hands Stiles what looks like a hospital gown, instructing him to change out of his shirts and into it. Stiles’s lips turn down at the prospect of having to wear something this ugly, but he does as he’s told.

Stiles can feel his nipples harden in the cool exam room as he changes quickly, and he has to hide a smile when he sees Derek’s gaze zero in on his chest as soon as he walks back into the room.

He hops back onto the exam table just as  they hear a light knock on the door.

Stiles catches Derek’s eye excitedly, and calls out, “Come in!”

Dr. Deaton walks in, pushing a cart with a monitor on it in front of him and wheels it to the foot of the table.

“Hello, Stiles, Derek. How are we doing today?”

“Good,” Stiles says, nodding along. “Just a bit nervous.”

“You have nothing to worry about.” He says, turning to Stiles consideringly. “Are you still experiencing morning sickness?”

Stiles shakes his head. “It’s been a lot better actually, since I discovered peppermint tea. It’s been really helpful.”

Dr. Deaton nods. “That’s good to know. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help when Derek called.”

“We managed,” Derek answers gruffly.

Stiles kicks him in the shin, narrowing his eyes when Derek turns to him with an innocent look on his face.

“Don’t aggravate the doctor,” Stiles whispers, knowing only Derek can hear him. “He’s the one with the good drugs.”

Derek snorts, but Stiles notices that he keeps his mouth shut while Dr. Deaton goes over what’s going to happen.

“I’m going to go ahead and do the ultrasound first,” he points to the computer, “and then the nurse will come in and draw your blood like every other time. So, if you could just lay back and lift the gown, we can go ahead and get started.”

Stiles catches Derek’s eye—who looks just as, if not even more, excited than he himself is feeling—as he lays back and drags his shirt up.

“Okay, just a warning, this is going to be cold, Stiles.” Deaton says as he pulls out a tube of something and starts up the computer.

He squirts some sort of lube-like jelly on Stiles’s stomach and even though he was expecting it, he flinches a little. He feels Derek’s hand come up to his shoulder and squeeze it reassuringly, warming him slightly.

Deaton takes the probe out of a pocket on the side of the cart, and places it on Stiles’s stomach. “Now, we may or may not be able to hear the heartbeat just yet based on how the baby is positioned. But I’m going to try.” He concentrates on the computer for a moment, pressing seemingly random buttons until a black screen with grid lines pops up and then looks over at Derek. “But you can already hear it, can’t you?”

Stiles startles and whips his head around to look at Derek.

Derek, who’s looking _bashful_ and _adorable_ , his eyes shiny and crinkled at the corners, just nods.

Stiles gasps, pointing an accusing finger at Derek. “You can hear the baby and you _never told me_?”

“Sorry,” Derek says, shifting in his seat. “I didn’t want to say anything since you wouldn’t be able to hear it until today.”

“Still, dude,” Stiles says, only somewhat mollified. “You should have mentioned it. This is important. Promise me you’ll mention things like this in the future.”

“I will,” Derek promises.

“Good,” Stiles nods, satisfied. Then adds, as an afterthought, “Thank you.”

And his eyes widen when the realization sets in.

“Oh my _god_ , this is why you were watching me sleep like a creeper a few weeks ago, isn’t it?” Stiles asks him, fighting back the urge to laugh. “That’s when you heard the baby’s heartbeat for the first time.”

Derek’s cheeks turn pink and he ducks his head, and Stiles figures no one should be able to look this cute while feeling guilty.

Stiles doesn’t have time to hear his excuse, though, because right at that second a loud sound starts echoing around the room.

And that’s—

It’s—

Oh my _god_.

Stiles brings his hand to his mouth, chest feeling tight, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

Because that’s the baby’s heart. A heart that is alive and beating and _healthy_.

And it’s—

It’s kind of amazing.

And that Derek gets to listen to it whenever he wants makes it kind of even _more_ amazing.

Not to mention exciting.

And possibly _terrifying_ , because now that he can hear the kid’s heartbeat, it pretty much means that _this is really happening._ Stiles is really pregnant. He’s really gonna have a kid. He’s really going to have _Derek’s_ kid.

Not that he didn’t know that before, but now it’s just _so real_. There’s no denying it. There’s a tiny little thing that’s half him and half Derek growing inside of him, and his or her heart is beating loud enough for Stiles to actually hear.

It’s kind of overwhelming, if he’s being honest.

It’s kind of _overwhelming_ to know he’s going to be responsible for giving Derek something he so obviously _wants_ with every fiber of his being. Something that’s plain to see on Derek’s face, with the way his eyes are glued to the ultrasound machine, his lips tipped up lightly in a smile, his eyes filled with so much _love_ already for this child that’s not even the size of a walnut yet.

And now, or at least for the next sevenmonths, Stiles is responsible for this kid. He needs to keep them safe and cozy and healthy until it’s time for them to be born.

He looks at the black and white screen then, and notices Dr. Deaton zooming in on one portion and Stiles can _almost_ make out a little peanut shaped thing amongst the black and white scraggly lines.

There it is!

_That’s the little human Stiles made!_

And sure, Derek helped, but _still_.

The baby is right there on the screen and he’s the most precious baby Stiles has ever seen and _it looks like he’s waving at Stiles._

And, okay, maybe it doesn’t actually look like that, but that doesn’t mean he’s _not_ waving. And, okay, Stiles realizes that he doesn’t actually _know_ if the kid is a ‘he’ but it’s better than calling him ‘it’ in his head.

He feels Derek’s hand tighten on his shoulder, and when he looks up it is to see Derek looking at him like he just got hit over the head with something.

“Would you boys like a picture?” Deaton asks, his voice cutting through thebabyhaze Stiles finds himself in.

Stiles opens his mouth, all ready to say ‘no, that's okay’, but before he can get the words out, he hears Derek say, “Yes,” so quietly that it’s almost a whisper. 

And Derek looks so eager and happy and _awed_ as he keeps staring at his baby that all Stiles can do is hop off the table and go change while Dr. Deaton prints out a few pictures.

Pictures that Derek quickly makes sure to put up on the fridge once they get back to the apartment, separating some of the others so he can give them to the betas the next time they see each other.

It’s cute, seeing Derek excited like that.

It also says good things about how awesome of a dad he’ll be once the baby actually gets here.

At least that what Stiles thinks.

You know, along with wondering why his heart constricts in his chest everytime he sees the picture ,  because in the end, it’s not like he’s going to be his or her parent.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update will be **Friday, July 25th around 5pm EST**. If for some reason we can’t update (like last week), the chapter will definitely be up on the following Friday. A warning will always be posted on our tumblrs if that happens. :)


	10. I was ogling and oogling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek’s staring.
> 
> He knows he is and he knows it’s creepy.
> 
> But _he can’t stop_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We just wanted a moment to _thank you all_ for subscribing and leaving kudos and comments and bookmarking this fic. We appreciate it all _so much_ , you have no idea.
> 
> To answer one very important question we keep getting: _Yes_ , this is Stiles/Derek endgame and _yes_ , it will have a happy ending. We promise. 
> 
> Chapter title from [The Creep (Lonely Island)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tLPZmPaHme0). And as usual, here’s the [Settle Down 'Verse Breakdown](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/sdch) in case you need it.
> 
> xoxo,  
> J & P

Derek’s staring.

He knows he is _and_ he knows it’s creepy.

But _he can’t stop_.

They came home from Stiles’s week nine  appointment ten minutes ago and Stiles is sprawled on the couch watching some dumb TV show—Derek can’t be bothered to pay attention to the television—and his shirt is _stretched_ across his stomach.

His stomach, that’s no longer flat.

Because Stiles has a _bump._ A baby bump. A baby that’s _Derek’s_. His _child_.

So Derek stares. A lot.

He stares so much Stiles starts noticing, looking at Derek with a weird expression on his face whenever Derek’s gaze lingers on the way his shirts are tighter around his middle.

So yeah, the staring.

It’s a thing that’s happening.

Derek can’t really help himself.

He can’t get tired of it, of letting his eyes rest on the _proof_ that Stiles is carrying Derek’s child inside of him. And that the baby is _growing,_ healthy and strong.

It’s come to a point where his whole attention is focused on staring at it, the bump, that he even misses bits and pieces of conversation if someone happens to be speaking to him or near him. In fact, he pretty much becomes completely oblivious to his surroundings—at least when he and Stiles are in the loft, safe and sound.

That’s why he doesn’t really notice when _Stiles_ starts noticing all the staring, getting caught completely off guard when Stiles suddenly turns the TV off, crosses his arms over his chest, and tilts his head to the side, considering.

Derek stares back, unsure about what’s about to happen, mind coming up with hundreds of scenarios ranging from Stiles telling him to _stop it_ to Stiles being so uncomfortable that he wants to _go back home_.

What Stiles _actually_ says—and Derek almost thinks he mishears it for a second—, hand making a broad gesture to his lower stomach and _crotch,_ is _,_  “Wanna touch it?”

The kind of staring Derek’s doing now is different.

This time instead of being fascinated he’s _horrified_. And also embarrassed. And slightly turned on.

Because truth be told, Derek wasn’t even _thinking_ about that, hasn’t even considered the possibility that Stiles might want something from him after heat week. All he wants is to feel Stiles’s extended stomach, and cradle his baby between his palms, feel the life growing in Stiles’s belly.

But now?

Now Stiles’s crotch is _all_ Derek can think about.

That’s _all_ he can think about as he feels his entire face turn red, eyes still on Stiles. And on Stiles’s stomach. Only to move them to Stiles’s face when Stiles seems to realize what he said and how the gesture he made could be taken.

Derek can practically _see_ it dawning on Stiles, because he makes a little choked up noise that _does things to Derek_ and says, “I meant the bump. I mean, it’s your baby. I’m just carrying it for you. So I’d be cool if you wanted to do that. I didn’t mean, you know— Not that I— But I meant the bump. If you wanna touch it.”

And Derek—

Derek _wants_. He wants _so much_.

He’s glad that Stiles clarified just then though, because his train of thought had not been very chaste at all. But no way is he going to _not_ take Stiles up on that offer. He’s been able to hear the heartbeat for about a month now, but that bump, that tangible _thing_ is undeniable evidence that that is _his kid_ in there.

So Derek licks his lips and raises a hand, stopping short of Stiles’s tummy.

“Are you sure?” he asks, because he _has_ to. Because he thinks that once he starts he won’t be able to not have his hands somewhere near Stiles and his baby.

“Go crazy, dude,” Stiles says softly, smiling a little. “And just so you know, you don’t have to be afraid of asking me for things like this. If you want to feel your kid, this is me giving you blanket permission to do so. No questions asked.”

Derek swallows around the lump in his throat, wondering if the gratitude he feels is apparent on his face.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Stiles rolls his eyes. “Now come touch my stomach instead of staring at it all the time.”

Derek moves until he’s kneeling on the floor between Stiles’s knees, fingers hooking under the hem of Stiles’s shirt. He looks up at Stiles to ask if what he’s doing is okay, but he doesn’t get a chance to ask anything before Stiles is pulling his own shirt up, uncovering the barely there bump.

Derek just stares for a moment, before putting one hand on just above Stiles’s belly button, fingers spread out and pressing down lightly. Stiles’s skin is warm and soft and _smooth_ under his touch and it makes _him_ all warm inside, and his heart tugs in his chest.

That’s his _kid_ he’s feeling, there’s an entire new human life in there.

It’s amazing.

They stay there for a little while, Derek stroking over and under and the sides of the bump. Stiles puts the TV on at some point, he _thinks_ , but Derek’s awareness is pretty much solely centered on the bump, feeling warm, and content, and _happy_.

Only to feel like he’s been doused by _ice water_ when he, all of a sudden, looks up to see Erica and Isaac smirking at him, while Boyd just kind of stares up at the ceiling out of politeness.

He’d be so caught up by his kid and the baby bump and the heartbeat he was concentrating on so intensely that he didn’t even _hear_ them come in.

Something that they’re keenly aware of given the looks on their faces.

Derek sighs.

Isn’t that _just great_?

* * *

To say Stiles’s life has taken a turn for the better would be an understatement.

Ever since he told Derek there was no permission needed to touch his stomach, it’s been open season on Stiles’s bump. Derek’s touch never lingers, and he always makes sure to move slowly so Stiles can stop him if he’s not comfortable, but whenever they’re in the same room together Derek’s hands find their way to Stiles’s middle.

Stiles isn’t complaining.  He likes Derek’s easy affection and desire to be close to his kid.

The betas have also been coming around a lot more since the day they spent watching movies together, and Stiles finds that hanging out with them as nerve-wracking as he first thought it would be. It’s actually very much like being around his own friends, with conversation flowing easily, Erica teasing all of them when she gets a chance, Isaac rolling his eyes at every other thing that comes out of her mouth, and Boyd just sitting back and watching everyone serenely.

It makes him wish for an afternoon where they all get together—his and Derek’s pack. He should probably bring it up with Derek, see what he thinks about Stiles inviting everyone over to watch some movies or something. Maybe Stiles could even bully him into cooking something.

That’s what Stiles is thinking about just as he’s getting out of the shower when he hears an insistent knock on the door.

He isn’t quite sure what to do at first, since in the entire time he’s been there no one has come over but Derek’s betas, and even then, it’s only been when Derek was actually there.

He’s torn between going over to open the door and texting Derek asking if he was expecting company. He _knows_ how protective Derek has been over him—and the baby—over the last few months, arm curling around him and holding him close when they go out and glaring at people when they accidentally bump into Stiles on the street.

Derek also somehow _always_ swoops in whenever Stiles is carrying something and somehow manages to pluck it out of his hands before he can react. Stiles can’t even remember the last time he held something that wasn’t silverware or a glass.

And Stiles just _knows_ Derek keeps constantly tracking his and the baby’s heartbeat, making note of even the slightest change and coming to see if everything’s okay.

Everything about those situations is _ridiculous_ and _annoying_ and absolutely adorable.

So Stiles figures that no matter what, Derek should be aware that someone has come by, and shoots him a quick text as he walks out of his room.

 **To Derek:** there was just a knock at the door. you didn’t forget your key or something today did you?

He doesn’t wait for a response though, because all of a sudden he hears a slight drumming noise, like nails tapping against the door, and he’s _pretty_ sure he knows who it is now.

Derek _hates_ that particular habit of hers, which is probably the entire reason why she does it in the first place.

He regrets coming out in just his towel when he opens the door and Erica’s jaw drops a little, taking in his arms and chest and shoulders and the swell of his stomach.

It makes him terribly self conscious, but  he can tell by the way Erica’s mouth snaps shut and lips curl up that she likes what she’s seeing. Stiles doesn’t know what to do.

Except wave Erica in with a flail of his hand and sprint to his room, calling over his shoulder that he needs a minute to throw something on.

He hears her laughter all the way to his room.

He dresses in his normal  _I’m now pregnant_ attire of sweats and a tee, sending Derek a quick text telling him Erica is there, and he is back with her in less than five minutes, finding her lounging around the living room with the TV on. She’s eating an apple, and Stiles can see the raw veggie bowl he prepared for a snack later and had kept in the fridge is now sitting out on the coffee table.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure?” Stiles asks, grabbing the bowl as he sits down beside her.

“I don’t have to be at the practice today. Day off,” Erica says. “I thought I could come visit since Derek’s busy working and you’re here all by your lonesome.”

“I could be busy working too, for all you know,” Stiles huffs, chewing on an orange bell pepper.

Erica raises an eyebrow at him and bites into her apple.

Stiles sighs.

It’s true he’s been trying to write, but he can’t seem to come up with anything good. Most of his ideas don’t seem to translate it into paper, and no matter how hard he tries he can’t manage to connect with his story and the characters.

He remembers how easy it was to get his first book out, words pouring out of him with no effort at all, pages upon pages piling up as he wrote down what happened to him and his friends.

Stiles wants that back.

“Okay so maybe not,” he says begrudgingly. “It’s not for the lack of trying though.”

Erica hums sympathetically, but doesn’t say more on the subject for which Stiles is grateful.

They end up finding a channel—Derek’s got like a million—that’s marathoning the Harry Potter movies and there goes the rest of their day.

It’s a lot of fun too, because Erica turns out to be almost as big a Harry Potter nerd as Stiles is, and they spend their time discussing HP trivia, what they would be like as Hogwarts students, and then move to sorting all of their mutual friends into Hogwarts houses.

“Boyd stood in line with me when the last book came out,” Erica says, a dreamy look on her face. “And he doesn’t even _like_ Harry Potter.”

Stiles gapes at her, eyes flitting to the ring on her left hand and then back to her face. “And you _still_ married him?”

Erica just laughs loudly, head tossed back and shoulders shaking with mirth and winks at him. “What can I say, I liked his wand.”

Stiles chokes on the water he was drinking and stares at Erica in equal parts horror and amusement, and he can _feel_ his ears and cheeks turning red.

Erica just keeps on laughing at him.

They take a break around two and order a late lunch from the sandwich place and just keep watching movies for the the rest of the afternoon and into the evening.It’s nice, spending time with Erica. Stiles has come to like her a lot since the first time they met when she crashed his coffee meeting with Derek, and he’s glad to have her around.

You know, until she starts asking him about his previous relationships.

And it’s not like Stiles is embarrassed to talk about it, because he’s not. It’s just— There haven’t been that many people in his life. At least not in a romantic capacity. And he’s never been even _close_ to what he really wants from a relationship.

You know, the kind of relationship he grew up watching; how his parents were with each other, how their love was the kind of love that even death couldn’t erase. And he wants something like that for himself, more than he’d like to admit.

He _sort of_ tells Erica that much, mostly talking about his parents and less about himself, and she nods.

“I think Boyd and I are kind of like that? I mean, Boyd is absolutely, one hundred percent my best friend in the world. And it helps that I constantly want to climb him like a tree.” She gets a sort of faraway look in her eyes, and Stiles does _not at all_ want to know what she’s thinking. “It’s the best.”

Stiles sighs. It seems like so many people in his life have already found their perfect other half. Scott and Kira are nauseatingly adorable and so are Lydia and Jackson, in their own way. Even Scott and Allison were ridiculously cute back when they were together.

“I guess I’m still looking for my Prince Charming,” he says finally, and Erica just tilts her head to the side, looking at Stiles but the expression on her face makes him feel like she’s not really seeing _him_. It’s kind of like the look Scott gets whenever he’s listening to something far away.

So he’s not really surprised when Derek walks into the room, though Stiles can _feel_ how his heart just stuttered in his chest at the sight of him.

He’s seen Derek in his work clothes often enough, but today he just looks completely different somehow. He’s wearing an olive green button down shirt which compliments his eyes _perfectly,_ paired with dark gray slacks and a skinny silver tie. Normally Derek wears a suit jacket that covers up his perfect upper body, but today it’s just the shirt that shows off his biceps nicely and a _tight_ vest over it that accentuates the way his body is broad at the shoulders and then narrows at the waist.

It’s _breathtaking_ if Stiles is being honest.

Derek plus work attire _totally_ does it for him.

Which is something Erica must know, if judging by the way she raises an eyebrow at him and smirks a little when Stiles finally rips his eyes away from Derek and his ridiculously hot outfit.

Stiles swallows.

“Hey,” Derek says, frowning a little. He’s obviously picked up at the change on Stiles’s heartbeat. “Everything okay?”

Stiles nods, maybe a little quickly, but Derek doesn’t seem to notice.

And then he promptly changes the subject, glancing quickly at his phone before he meets Derek’s gaze again.

“Man, I didn’t realize how late it got; Erica and I got caught up watching movies.” He grimaces. “I haven’t made any dinner yet.”

Erica claps her hands together then, and looks _delighted_. “Excellent, you both can join Boyd and me for dinner. We’re going to that new Greek place in midtown.”

Stiles can tell Derek is hesitating responding to that, torn between spending some time with his betas but also not wanting to go anywhere that will make Stiles sick.

He decides to put him out of his misery, shaking his head at Derek as if telling him not to worry. “Let’s do it! My morning sickness has been getting better, I might as well start somewhere, right?”

It’s true he hasn’t thrown up as much since Danny and Lydia introduced him to the wonders of peppermint tea, raw veggies, and flavored popsicles, but certain smells still set him off. But the closer he gets to the end of his first trimester, the sooner all of that will be over. According to the majority of the literature he’s read anyways. If that ends up not being true he’s probably going to hurt somebody.

“You sure?” Derek asks, still unconvinced.

“Yes,” Stiles nods. “I’m also tired of staying inside all day. Going out and getting some fresh air will be good for me and the baby.”

Stiles feels kind of guilty for using the baby card, but he knows that’s a sure way to get Derek to agree to something.

And that’s exactly what Derek does, telling him and Erica he just needs to change into some fresh clothes and then they’re good to go.

Stiles almost opens his mouth to tell him that _no, don’t you dare change you look amazing_ , but he catches himself at the last second. He also figures that’s probably a good thing in the end, because then maybe Derek will end up in clothes that don’t make him appear _that good-looking_.

Stiles doesn’t know what he was expecting Derek to change into, but he also didn’t think Derek would come out looking _even hotter_ than he had before.

He’s replaced the gray slacks with dark wash skinny jeans that look as though they’ve been _painted_ one (seriously, how did Derek even get into those?) and that are belted low on his hips.

He’s wearing the same olive shirt as before, as well as the vest, but without the tie, the _sleeves are rolled up to his forearms and the top three buttons are open_. He can see Derek’s collarbones and his chest hair on display and well, _fuck_.

It’s going to be a long night.

* * *

Derek presses his lips together, fighting the urge to lift his head up and look at Stiles.

Stiles, who’s sprawled on the couch, glancing at him every couple of minutes and _fidgeting_.

It’s kind of driving him crazy.

He knows Stiles wants to say something, it’s obvious by the nervous beat of his heart and the anxious edge to his scent.He just doesn’t know why Stiles hasn’t come up to him yet. He’s been trying hard, ever since they started this, to make sure Stiles knows he can talk to Derek about whatever he needs.

So he waits.

He knows that Stiles will tell him what’s up eventually, and maybe this is just something Stiles has to work through in his head.

He goes back to what he’s doing, which is looking at nursery furniture on his iPad, figuring it’s time to start making plans about the baby’s room. Erica already sent him an email with the link to some light yellow paint she picked out, saying it’d be a good color for a nursery, and now Derek is trying to determine what style of wood will match it.

It doesn’t do enough to distract him from Stiles’s fidgets however, so before long he’s just looking at baby clothes; at overalls with little baseballs on them and sweet sundresses with purple butterflies all over them.

They’re adorable, making his heart tug in his chest, and he wonders if finding out the sex of the baby is a possibility for their next ultrasound appointment. He definitely needs to make it a point to ask Deaton the next time they go in.

He spends some more time window shopping on his iPad, bookmarking this and that, sometimes the entire store, sometimes just a particular outfit.

It’s soothing.

Until, finally, he hears Stiles shift on the couch so that he’s sitting up. And when Derek looks at him is to see Stiles looking back, almost imploringly.

“So I was thinking,” he starts, eyes darting to Derek’s face and then away, like he’s afraid of what Derek’s expression is going to be.

“Yes?” Derek prompts, putting his iPad down and focusing all of his attention on Stiles.

“I think we should do something together,” Stiles blurts out, and before Derek can ask him what he means he keeps going, “with our packs. Like, both of them. At the same time. I mean, I already know all of your Betas and you know Kira and the others, so I think it’d be good if they met each other.”

Derek considers this. On the one hand, his pack and Stiles’s aren’t really going to have much contact after the baby comes, so it might not be the best idea to have them liking each other.

On the other, it’s always beneficial to have supernatural allies, especially in a city as big as New York. Plus, he’s been friends with Kira for _years_ and he likes what he’s seen of Lydia and Scott.And he _knows_ Boyd and Erica love both Lydia and her husband.

And it would be beneficial to have an official meet and greet, because what if one of his pack stops by the apartment when Stiles is there with _his_ pack? He knows Erica is just prone to stop by now that she and Stiles have bonded, and he doesn’t want to chance any fights in case she arrives to find strange wolves in her Alpha’s den.

The thing that really clinches it though, is when he thinks about how easy Lydia and Danny’s friendship was, the day they visited. If _they_ can still be friends post pregnancy, then so can Stiles and Derek.

Right?

He clears his throat, “I think that’s actually a great idea. The betas have never really socialized with another pack, so this would be a good experience. And Erica and Boyd already talk a lot about Lydia, I _know_ Isaac wants to meet her.” He nods quickly, warming up to the idea more he talks, “Let’s do it.”

Stiles grabs his phone excitedly, fingers tapping away as he grins up at Derek. “Awesome man. Ask your betas if they’re free tomorrow? Kira says we should do brunch at the cafe!”

Derek nods and pulls out his phone as well, tapping through it until he’s gotten to the group text thread he’s got with his pack. He sends a brief text to the three of them, just asking if they’re all free to meet up tomorrow morning for brunch and waits.

 **From Erica:** depends what for. Sunday’s our day for morning sex.

 **From Isaac:** You paying? I don’t get my paycheck until Monday.

 **From Isaac:** Erica no why would you

 **To The Fearsome Threesome** : Brunch with Stiles’s pack. If one of you can’t make it, we’ll pick another time.

He wrinkles his nose in disgust at the name. The group had originally been ‘The Hale Pack’ but the minute Erica had gotten wind of that, she’d changed it, claiming it was far too boring.

He’d tried to change it back, but of course she hadn’t let that slide.

So eventually he stopped trying.

 **From Boyd** : Ignore her, we’ll be there.

 **To The Fearsome Threesome** : Little Fox Cafe. 11am. BE ON YOUR BEST BEHAVIOR.

 **From Erica:** okay, _dad_.

 **From Isaac:** Hell yes, free foooood.

 **From Boyd** : Derek. Really.

Derek locks his phone without replying and sets it to the side, just barely refraining from pinching the bridge of his nose. Instead he glances at Stiles, who’s looking at him expectantly, teeth worrying at his bottom lip.

“ _And_?”

“They agreed,” Derek tells him, lips twitching when Stiles whoops and grins at him.

So that’s how he finds himself on a Sunday morning having brunch with what is possibly the rowdiest bunch of twenty-somethings he’s ever known.

He’s too old for this shit.

An hour in they’re all laughing and joking and talking over one another like they’ve known each other for _years_. It’s actually kind of scary.

He almost misses the awkwardness that was present when he and Stiles first got there.

He could see through the large windows that Kira and Scott were seated at a table that could easily fit fifteen, instead of just the ten they were expecting, and he could could see Scott glancing around warily and scenting the air in a pretty damn obvious way in order to figure out when the other ‘wolves arrived.

Erica and Isaac were huddled together _outside_ , and so Derek told Stiles to go ahead of him to say hi to Scott and Kira.

“Do you want me to order for you?”

“Sure,” Derek says, feeling pleased. “My usual.”

“No problem,” Stiles smiles before turning around and heading inside.

Derek makes his way over to Erica and Isaac, frowning when he catches the quick beats of their hearts.

“Why are you nervous?” he asks as soon as he reaches them, looking around for anything that might have made them feel this way and scanning the crowd for threats.

“Well,” Erica starts, exchanging a glance with Isaac before shrugging. “We’ve never really interacted with another pack before.”

“And we were wondering if there was anything, uh, we should know before we do,” Isaac adds, shifting on his feet.

Derek blinks, because _oh_.

New York is a big city, usually with small packs much like his own, and unless someone is actively looking for other ‘wolves, the chance of coming across another full pack is rare. And sure, sometimes they share ground on Central Park during full moons, but everyone usually keeps their distance, knowing that emotions are high and it wouldn’t take much to start a fight that would undoubtedly call attention to them.

He runs his hand along Erica’s upper arm and pats Isaac’s shoulder. The gestures are small, but he can tell that they’re already a little bit more relaxed than before.

“I wouldn’t really worry about it,” he says gruffly, watching how Scott is literally lifting Stiles up in a bear hug. It bothers him, and he wants to go over there and tell him to _stop squishing Stiles and his baby_. “I don’t really think Scott McCall is really a traditional Alpha. He was bitten just like you guys were.”

He can see the surprise on their faces, both looking a lot less nervous and tense now that they know Scott isn’t a born ‘wolf. He thought Stiles would have mentioned that to Erica at some point during their bonding sessions, but apparently the talk about how Stiles came to be in the know about supernatural creatures never came up.

“Where’s Boyd?” Derek says suddenly, realizing for the first time that someone is missing. It’s really not his fault; Boyd can be _really_ quiet when he wants to be.

Erica notices his surprise, laughing lightly as he angles her head towards the bookshop next door. “Browsing of course. That boy is _so_ predictable.”

That’s definitely something Derek can agree with.

When Derek first met Boyd, it was because Erica, as a new ‘wolf, had accidentally wolfed out in front of him.

It had been late one night and Erica had been making her way to the apartment they shared at the time, and according to her, a dark hulking individual—Boyd always rolls his eyes and sighs whenever she tells this part—had suddenly appeared behind her and grabbed her shoulder.

She remembered being _especially_ startled because she was a _werewolf_ and how had she not heard him coming.

The result of course had been claws popping out and gold eyes flashing with Erica in a crouch facing Boyd, who had immediately dropped what appeared to be Erica’s keys, which had fallen from her purse without her noticing, and backed away with his hands in the air.

No need to say Derek had to get involved after that.

To this day, Derek’s not sure how Erica got Boyd to follow her to his apartment, and on most days, he really doesn’t want to know.

What he does remember is how Boyd had been, for the most part, completely unphased by the whole werewolf reveal and only too willing to accept their offer to crash there.

Derek ignored the part where Boyd and Erica stole glances each other all night long when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

Not that Erica let him pretend for long. Derek’s pretty sure she asked him out on a date not even one entire week after they’d met.

The next morning, over a subdued breakfast, Boyd had told him about his sister and his foster family, and how he’d basically bailed on his foster parents after she died.

No one was surprised when Boyd crashing for a couple days turned into Boyd living there, Derek helping him through the process of getting his GED and sneaking him into Bobst Library at NYU—where Derek was studying architecture at the time—whenever he could.

Derek’s not sure whether it was the silent serenity of the place, or just Boyd’s weird fascination with the Dewey Decimal System, but Derek is pretty sure that was the start of Boyd’s book addiction.

And then, a couple months after Boyd’s birthday, the night they were out celebrating him passing the GED, Derek wasn’t surprised one bit when Boyd pulled him aside and told him that he’d been thinking about this for _months_ now and that  he had talked to Erica and Isaac and that he wanted the bite. He wanted to be _pack_.

There was no way Derek could’ve said no to that.

“I sent him a text when you got here though,” Isaac says, helpfully, snapping Derek out of his thoughts. “He should be coming out any minute now.”

Just as Isaac finishes speaking the bookstore door opens and Boyd and Lydia stroll outside, both carrying bags.

Erica’s eyes narrow when she sees that, hands coming to rest on her hips. “Where do you think we’re keeping that?”

Derek presses his lips together not to smile. Boyd is known for not leaving a bookstore without at least a book with him, something Erica at first thought it was cute until they ran out of space on their bookshelves and had to start placing them in piles around the apartment.

Boyd blinks, looking down at the books and then back to his wife. “I’ll leave them at Derek’s.”

Derek huffs, but doesn’t complain. Boyd leaving them with him only means he gets to read something without having to pay for it.

“Are you ready to go inside?” Lydia asks, regarding them like she knows exactly why they haven’t yet.

Derek’s struck, not for the first time, with the notion that Lydia’s got as good a sense of hearing as werewolves do, if not better.

Either that or her perception and ability to read people is _scarily_ accurate.

He turns to Erica and Isaac, waiting for their nods before they all head inside.

Scott does his sniffing thing again as soon as they open the door, and Derek has to bite down on the inside of his cheek not to smile.

He walks ahead of the group, knowing it’ll make it easier for his betas to follow if he shows he doesn’t sense Scott as a threat.

Stiles helps with that, getting up when he catches sight of them, grinning brightly and pulling Erica into a hug when they reach the table.Erica hugs him back, running a hand up and down his back in a very unsubtle attempt at scent marking.

Scott notices, but instead of glaring like Derek probably would he just smiles, sweet and relaxed and like this is exactly what he expected from her. Which means either Stiles, Kira, or Lydia must have said something to him about her. Derek doesn’t mind as much as he thought he would.

Isaac and Boyd are a lot less obvious than that, just patting him on the back a few times when Stiles greets them before turning around and introducing everyone.

Derek lets him, even though, traditionally, he should be the one doing it. Stiles makes everyone more relaxed, though, with his joyous smile and apparent excitement at having everyone together.

He notices Scott makes a visible effort to not appear imposing, especially when he shakes Isaac’s hand, with a perfunctory, “Nice to meet you, man.”

Before they can all take a seat however, Stiles lets out a happy squeal, and Derek whips around to see Stiles’s gaze directed towards the bathrooms. Jackson is exiting the family bathroom with Dawn perched on his hip and a large diaper bag with pastel colored elephants hanging off his shoulder, looking all around like the epitome of ‘besotted dad’.

It kind of makes Derek wonder if that’s what he’ll look like once  _his_ baby is born.

He secretly kind of hopes so, because no one can deny just how much Jackson loves his daughter.

Stiles squeals again, this time a distinguishable “Dawnie!” and _skips_ his way over to Jackson,  scooping Dawn out of his arms and spinning her around a couple times before settling her against his chest, just above his bump.

And all the ‘wolves near the table turn around to stare at Derek when his heart trips over itself.

He can feel his entire face flushing, but he _can’t help it_ , okay? His instincts are going crazy knowing Stiles is carrying his child, and simultaneously seeing him holding a baby while radiating happiness throws all of his _pack_ feelings into overdrive.

Stiles plops down at the head of the table, Lydia on one side of him and with Dawn still in his arms. He maneuvers her so she’s on his lap facing everyone, little hands slapping against the table.

Derek doesn’t even care that he’s a little too eager when he snags the the chair on the other side of Stiles, hoping that everyone will chalk it up to his recent baby fever. By the looks Lydia and Erica give him he doesn’t think he succeeds.

He can’t say he cares. Not when Dawn turns to him and pitches forward, arms extended in front of her as she makes grabby hands at him.

“I guess I’m not your favorite anymore, huh Dawn?” Stiles pouts,though his eyes are warm and friendly as he shifts so Derek can lift Dawn and place her on his own lap.

Derek looks at Lydia to make sure she’s okay with him holding her, and when all she does is give him a cryptic smile and a small nod, he figures it is.

He lets Dawn play with his fingers as everyone orders, smiling softly when she starts babbling excitedly at him.

He takes his eyes off her eventually to see his and Stiles’s pack around the table. Isaac and Scott, surprisingly, in deep conversation about euthanasia of all things. Although, given that Scott is a vet and Isaac works part time at the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SPCA), it’s really not all that strange.

Boyd and Jackson are talking in rushed whispers about local preschools, Derek catching bits and pieces of the conversation if he concentrates a little. From what he can hear, Derek doesn’t know if Boyd is a part of the conversation for Derek or if there’s something he and Erica are considering that Derek doesn’t know about.

Erica, Kira, and Lydia are discussing the new cafe on 5th avenue right across the street from Saks and agreeing to meet again another day, but this time with none of the boys around. Hearing that kind of makes Derek feel uneasy. He’s aware of how scary those three can be on their own, so there’s no telling what kind of damage they can do when they are together.

Especially when the three of them turn to him with smirks in their faces when Dawn lets go of his hand in favor of raising hers so she can pet his stubble, giggling when he rubs his cheeks against her palms and squealing when Derek pretends to chew on her fingers.

It’s then he hears the abrupt change in Stiles’s heartbeat, going from relaxed to rabbit fast, and he snaps his head up to look in his direction.

And Stiles is looking at him and Dawn, cheeks flushed and eyes bright and pink lips parted. Stiles’s hand is resting against his stomach, and if Derek didn’t know better he’d think the look on Stiles’s face is one of longing.

Luckily they’re both saved from having to say anything when Erica coos in Derek’s direction, nudging Boyd and mock whispering, “So how about we make ourselves one of those?”

Only to have Boyd freeze, and then slowly looks up at her, square in the face. “Just tell me when. I’ll bring the whipped cream.”

“Oh my _god_ , guys I’m _eating_ ,” Isaac groans, hiding his face behind his hands. “Not to mention, we don’t ever want to hear about your sex life.”

Jackson bursts out laughing and somehow manages to choke out, “So you two _always_ act like this? Good to know you’re inappropriate everywhere and not just at the Columbia office parties.”

Derek doesn’t join in when everyone laughs at Jackson’s comment, seeming to be frozen in place as he stares at his two betas. Because Erica and Boyd are talking about expanding the pack, _his_ pack, adding to the numbers, practically giving his future cub the equivalent of a cousin.

He can feel hope spreading through him at the idea that his pack is _growing_ and _flourishing_ and that, one day, has the potential to be as big and happy as it once was.

It’s overwhelming and nerve-wracking, and he has to close his eyes for a moment to prevent from flashing the entire cafe his Alpha eyes. It’s partly a feeling of pride that he’s been able to move on and make something _successful_ and partly crippling fear at all this new responsibility he’s being faced with. Cubs are _hard work_ and he wants to do this right. He also doesn’t want to lose them like he did his family.

He knows he’s drawing attention from his betas and Stiles’s friends, even feels one of Stiles’s hand curl around his arm and squeeze it softly.

“Are you okay?”

Derek takes a deep breath, trying to focus on the feeling of Stiles’s touching him, Dawn’s heavy weight on his lap, the steady heartbeats of his betas and his baby.

“Yes,” Derek says, finally opening his eyes. “I’m okay.”

Stiles doesn’t look convinced.

He doesn’t get a chance to ask again, though, because just them they all hear someone clear their throat before saying, “Hi, guys.”

Derek can honestly say he never, not in his wildest dreams, expected to be happy to have a member of the Argent family around.

Allison is standing by the table and holding a cup in her hand, a dimple in her cheek showing as she smiles hesitantly at all of them.

Everyone’s attention snaps to her, taking the focus off of Derek. Which is something he’s very grateful for. He doesn’t think he’d successfully be able to explain what he’d been feeling right then.

Stiles and his pack get up and hug Allison hello. Jackson even goes as far as staying by her side with an arm around her waist after everyone else is back in their seats, and Derek is reminded that Jackson was the ‘wolf Chris Argent raised after his pack was killed.

Stiles introduces Allison to Derek’s betas, who are all staring at her in open curiosity after Derek gives her a sharp nod of acknowledgement.

“Hey guys, this is Allison, uh,” he sneaks a quick look at Derek. “Allison Argent. Allison, that’s Erica, Boyd and Isaac. They’re Derek’s betas.”

Their curious looks shift to upset and angry ones, with Erica going as far as curling her lips in a silent snarl. They’re poised to attack at the slightest provocation, bodies rigid and tensed, and Derek knows he needs to take control of his pack and of the situation and before it escalates.

“It’s fine,” Derek says softly, low enough so only the ‘wolves can hear him. “She’s not like _her_.”

Isaac and Boyd relax immediately, while Erica turns her gaze on Derek, eyebrow raised as a wordless ‘are you sure?’

Derek nods almost imperceptibly at her, but what’s more interest to him is the way Scott’s face pales before his jaw hardens, dark eyes understanding as they finding Derek’s. In that moment Derek knows Scott at least has an inkling to who _she_ is and to what happened to his family.

He doesn’t let himself focus on that though, and turns to Allison, “Hi, Allison. It’s good seeing you again.”

“You too,” Allison says, tucking her hair behind her ear and turning to his betas. “And it’s nice meeting all of you.”

They each regard her with a different expression, Erica with the most defiant look on her face and Boyd the most neutral. Isaac though, is looking at her with a glint in his eyes that usually means he very much likes what he’s seeing.

“Send my regards to your father,” Derek says finally, figuring that it’s the most neutral thing he can say at this point.

Allison nods sweetly, and for the first time Derek glances at Jackson who just looks back at him, while trying to hide the flash of surprise that crosses his face.

Jackson must have heard about the Hale fire growing up as a ‘wolf in a predominantly hunter family, but Derek wonders if Jackson knows that how the Hale pack came to an end was what prompted Chris’s decision to adopt him.

Derek presses his lips together, suddenly wary about two people in Stiles’s pack knowing about his family history. He doesn’t know if Stiles knows anything about it, but he _does_ know that it is not something he talks about. Ever.

 _And_ , if Stiles were to know, Derek would prefer to be the one to tell him.

“I will! I’ve actually got to go, but Jackson, walk me out?” Allison spins after a cute wave at the table and then links her arms through Jackson’s, dragging him outside with her after one last lingering look in Isaac’s direction.

He notices Isaac watch her leave and Derek is surprised to find he doesn’t immediately want to forbid his Beta from ever pursuing a relationship with her, especially considering all the bad history the Hales and the Argents have between them. He’s aware Allison isn’t anything like her aunt, but he thought he’d at least feel a bit wary about his first Beta and a hunter getting close.

He’s wondering if he’s getting ahead of himself though, as Isaac turns back to Scott as though nothing important had just happened and goes back to talking to him about baby animals.

“Did you see that?” Stiles leans in and whispers low enough so only Derek can hear, his breath ghosting over the shell of Derek’s ear. “Isaac and Allison?”

“I saw it,” Derek says, and by the way he finds Erica glaring at Isaac he was not the only one.Stiles doesn’t pick up on _that_ however, and just waggles his eyebrows in Derek’s direction before going back to his food.

Brunch goes smoothly after that, although Derek notices Scott, Jackson and even Lydia glancing at him from time to time. The Betas are also a little tense, but after Kira ropes them into a conversation about who knows more embarrassing facts about Derek Hale, they go back to laughing and having fun.

Ironically, it’s _Kira_ that wins that particular contest, despite Erica’s claims that it isn’t a fair fight since Mrs. Y has stories from when Derek was a kid.

Derek doesn’t think it’s very fair either. Especially since Stiles seems to be having the time of his life and cataloguing everything to blackmail Derek later.

Until of course, he turns right around and tells everyone embarrassing stories about _Kira_ , like how when she was three she was so clumsy she could barely walk three steps before falling and how when she was nine she went door to door in her neighborhood inviting people to a caterpillar’s funeral. Only to be shocked and delighted when said caterpillar turned into a butterfly halfway through the service.

Scott seems to fall even more in love with Kira after hearing that story, getting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her to him so he can pamper her face with kisses.

Dawn joins in on the fun, grabbing a fist full of Derek’s eggs and throwing them at her father.

Derek has to admit he’s a bit sad at having to give her back to Jackson and Lydia when they have to leave,kissing her chubby baby cheeks and letting her rub her hands on his stubble in goodbye.

Derek finds himself standing alone after having said goodbye to his betas and Stiles’s pack, and is a little surprised when Jackson falls into step beside him.

He knows that Lydia ran to the bathroom to change Dawn before they left, and that Stiles is still back in the cafe saying bye to Scott and Kira.

“I heard about what happened,” Jackson tells him. He’s staring straight forward, jaw clenched, like he doesn’t want to say this as much as Derek doesn’t want to hear it. “And I think you know enough about the Argents to know what happened to my— To know that essentially  the same thing happened to me.”

“Jackson—,” Derek tries to interrupt him, but stops when Jackson shakes his head.

“I’m not going to tell you I’m sorry, because I know that doesn’t help. I just wanted to tell you I get it. I know what it’s like. And I promise I won’t say anything to anyone about it. Neither will Scott.”

Derek feels something loosen in him at that, and he feels a rush of gratitude towards Jackson.

“Thank you.”

Jackson gives him a sharp nod before offering Derek his hand. “I’ll see you around?”

Derek shakes it. “Yes, definitely.”

Stiles walks out then, and Derek wonders if Scott was paying attention to their conversation given his perfect timing.

“Ready to go, Derek?” Stiles asks, getting his hands tangled as he tries to wrap his worn scarf around his neck.

Derek moves to help him, but Jackson gets there first, giving one end of the scarf a firm tug and somehow releasing Stiles’s hands from where they were caught.

“One of these days you’re going to strangle _yourself_ ,” Jackson says irritably, but Derekcan sense the worry and concern just under the surface. “I don’t understand why you’re wearing one anyways, it’s _April_.”

Stiles huffs mock pompously and pulls on the scarf, exposing some of his neck. “I’ve got delicate skin. Something _you_ know lots about considering the amount of face creams you have in your bathroom.”

“They’re _Lydia’s_ ,” Jackson hisses.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Sure they are.”

Derek watches them in amusement, giving Jackson a small wave goodbye after he and Stiles stop arguing with each other.

It doesn’t take them long to get home, Stiles claiming his spot on the couch and sprawling ungracefully as soon as they’re inside the apartment.

“So that wasn’t horrible,” Stiles says, following Derek with his eyes as Derek takes his shoes off by the door and sticks his keys in the bowl on the dining table.

Derek actually has to lift Stiles’s feet so he can sit down, and he huffs out a low laugh when Stiles just puts them on Derek’s lap as soon as Derek’s made himself comfortable.

“No, it wasn’t horrible,” Derek says, unlacing Stiles’s shoes before taking them off, along with his socks.

“I’d say it even was a success,” Stiles muses out loud, wiggling his toes.

“Of course you would,” Derek shakes his head, lips curling up as he starts digging his fingers into the arch of Stiles’s foot.

“That feels good,” Stiles mumbles, sighing contentedly.

“You want to make brunch a regular thing, don’t you?” Derek asks, enjoying the soft sounds Stiles makes as Derek massages him.

“I’m so glad you agree with me, Derek. Really, it’s like we share a brain,” Stiles teases, grinning when Derek gives him a pointed look. “But really, though. We should do it again. It was fun.”

“We’ll do it again,” Derek tells him. It’s not always a given that ‘wolves from different packs are going to get along, and so Derek thinks that being friends with this pack is definitely a good thing. Plus, he knows he can trust Scott. “Maybe dinner next time.”

And if the blinding smile Stiles gives wasn’t enough to let Derek know he made the right decision, the text Erica sends him that night threatening to castrate him if he even so much as think about being a territorial asshole and not let them hang out with Scott’s pack certainly is.

* * *

Stiles taps the side of his laptop nervously, not sure if he wants the Skype call to actually connect or not.

On the one hand, hehasn’t spoken to his dad in a few weeks and he really wants to make sure everything is okay with him. On the other, he hasn’t spoken to his dad in a few weeks, _so_ he’s probably going to get some sort of guilt trip about avoiding his old man.

Not that he has been.

Not intentionally at least.

The apartment is eerily quiet for ten am on a weekday—the full moon was last night. The betas and Derek hadn’t even left for the park until Stiles went to bed around two am, and he has _no clue_ when they got back in.

He has a feeling they won’t be awake for awhile though, and so he has ample time to talk to his dad without anyone eavesdropping.

The call connects, and he sees his dad dressed in his uniform, blurry eyed and with a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. Stiles can tell he’s at the office based on the color of the wall and he realizes suddenly that it’s only seven am in California.

“Hey, pops. You almost done with a shift or you just starting?” And then adds, because he can’t resist, “You’re looking ragged, old man.”

“Almost done, thank god. I’m being relieved by Parrish at eight.”

“And is Melissa picking you up? You know you shouldn’t drive when you’re tired.”

His dad rolls his eyes, but the smiles he gives Stiles is warm. “I already called her. She should be here in a few minutes.”

“Good. I probably shouldn’t take long then.”

“Is everything alright?”

“It is!” Stiles grins, excited. He fumbles with the blurry ultrasound picture, pressing it against his chest. “More than alright. Remember how I had my first appointment a few weeks ago?”

Stiles had called his dad a few days after to check in and let him know he was doing okay, but due to the time difference and his dad being busy solving murders and catching bad guys, they haven’t really had the chance to talk on Skype until today.

“Sure, kid.”

“Well, I told you the doctor got us a picture of the baby, right? Do you want to see it?”

The Sheriff blinks, considering, and answers slowly, “Yes.”

Stiles turns the picture so it’s facing the camera, pointing a finger at the tiny bean-shaped lump. “That’s him. Or her. We don’t know. To be honest I don’t even know if Derek wants to know or if he wants it to be a surprise. But yeah, that’s the baby. Right there. He should probably be a little bigger now than this now, though.”

“He should,” his dad says, an unreadablelook on his face. “You’re what not, twelve weeks? Are you already showing?”

“Oh, yeah!” Stiles practically jumps in his seat, putting the picture down so he can get up. He pulls his shirt up and tugs the waistband of his pants down, making sure the camera catches his stomach, showing his dad the bump. “It just looks like I had a really big lunch, but here it is! I can still fit most of my pants, so that’s a good thing, I guess. No need to go shopping for maternity clothes or stealing Derek’s sweatpants just yet.”

Stiles stops speaking when he notices the silence from his dad, letting go of his shirt and flopping back on his seat.

His dad has got one of his ‘professional Sheriff’ faces on—the one where something is upsetting him, but he’s still trying to remain impassive. It may work on other people, but Stiles knows his father too well.

Before he can say anything however, his dad beats him to it, “Son, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Stiles’s mouth snaps shut as his dad seems to lean closer to the screen. “I’m afraid you don’t realize the immensity of what you’re actually doing here.”

“Dad,” Stiles says softly, because he does realize how huge this is.

He’s going to be giving Derek a little tiny baby that’s going to be his own, his _family_ , especially when it seems like Derek doesn’t have one anymore. There isn’t a shred of doubt in his mind about Derek being _exactly_ the right person to do this for.

“I’m just asking,” his dad says, waving a hand. “Do you?”

“Yeah, dad, I do,” Stiles tells him, tone firm. “I’m sure about this. All of this. I’ve been sure since the first meeting with Derek. He’s— He’s great, okay? He’s kind and caring and an amazing Alpha. God, dad, you should see him with _Dawn_. He deserves this. He deserves a family of his own. And this kid is going to be so lucky to have him as a parent. He’s going to love this baby _so much_ , dad, you have no idea. It’s so obvious, with the way he cares about his pack and me, that this child is going to be _so_ loved. So yes, I realize how huge this is and I’m sure about it.”

His dad nods, looking somewhat appeased, though he still doesn’t seem completely convinced. They switch topics to Beacon Hills and what’s been happening there for a bit, chatting about their neighbors and the high school’s latest lacrosse numbers for _far_ too long.

And then when Melissa shows up, she asks him sternly if he’s eating healthy and having enough fluids. He assures her he is and that Derek’s been taking care of him and blows her a kiss when she tells him she’s got the Sheriff sticking to his diet and that his latest doctor’s appointment had showed that he was in excellent heart health.

They say their goodbyes not long after that, with Stiles making promises to call more frequently. He spends the rest of the day playing the conversation back in his head, hand coming to rest on his stomach whenever he thinks about the words he said to his dad.

And Stiles doesn’t realize Derek must have heard his conversation until late that night when Derek comes to say good night, crouching down next to where Stiles is sprawled in what’s now acknowledged as his spot on the couch.

Derek leans in really close and lays his hands on Stiles’ stomach, thumbs tracing circles over the skin.

“Thank you for doing this,” Derek says, voice tipped low and carrying so much emotion Stiles’s heart clenches in his chest.

Stiles rests his hand on top of Derek’s, and his voice is just as low and soft when he says, “You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update: **August 8th, around 5pm EST.**


	11. Givin’ yourself to me can never be wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s like someone switched on his _I need to be sexed right now_ button and forgot to switch it off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **DISCLAIMER** : Stiles and Derek’s (And Lydia&Jackson and Danny’s) surrogate relationship in _no way_ resembles the reality of a parent-surrogate situation. As we’re sure you know, a parent and surrogate would never copulate in order to make a baby (as in Stiles and Derek’s case) and a surrogate would not hang around after the birth (as in Danny’s case). 
> 
> Furthermore, the events of this chapter would _not_ happen in an IRL surrogate situation. Please remember that this is fiction, and on top of that, this is _fanfiction_ and we do what we want.
> 
> A couple things from previous comments we wanted to address: 1) Dawn is biologically Jackson and Lydia’s. Danny was _only_ the surrogate. And 2) There were some questions about Kate and Derek’s family, and we know that we’ve sort of been skirting around Derek’s backstory. This is intentional. Y’all will find out when Stiles finds out ;) So stay tuned. 
> 
> Chapter title from [Let’s Get It On (Marvin Gaye) ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BKPoHgKcqag). And as usual, here’s the [Settle Down 'Verse Breakdown](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/sdch) in case you need it.
> 
> xoxo,  
> J & P

Stiles is pleased to say that around the three and a half month mark, his morning sickness is all but gone. He can eat normal foods again, and nothing really sends him straight to the bathroom so he can puke his guts out.

In exchange however, he’s _horny all the time_. It’s like someone switched on his _I need to be sexed right now_ button and forgot to switch it off.

It’s overwhelming.

Not to mention incredibly frustrating.

He jerks off nearly four times a day and that _still_ doesn’t seem to be enough to get his dick to stop getting hard, and he’s almost constantly wet and leaking into his boxers.

It’s basically as bad as being in heat. Except for one key fact—he’s aware of _everything_.

Meaning, he’s aware that Derek can smell all of this on him, probably _knows_ how much he’s been getting himself off, and _definitely_ knows that Stiles’s arousal spikes every time Derek walks into the room.

Not to mention, his nipples are _super sensitive._

Which he doesn’t understand, because according to all the literature he’s read, Omega males _don’t_ lactate.

Right?

He definitely needs to make a list of questions for his next doctor’s appointment.

But until then, he’s stuck fingering himself and jerking off furiously every time his shirt so much as brushes against his nipples—the lightest touch is enough to make himharder than a fucking rock.

It’s. Just. Not. Enough.

So, he’s cranky.

_So_ cranky.

Enough so that, one day, when Derek is stroking the bump and Stiles shifts and accidentally slides down a bit where they’re sitting and Derek’s hand ends up brushing against his nipple, Stiles feels torn between asking him to do it again or burst out crying from sheer sexual frustration.

What he ends up with is a sound that’s caught somewhere between a moan and pained groan.

And Derek just looks at him in shock, mouth parted and eyes wide and _fuck_ if that isn’t attractive as hell.

And, well, Stiles doesn’t know what the fuck to _do_ so he defaults to ‘asshole’ and blurts out, “Can you be fucking done already?”

He feels—scratch that, he _knows_ he _should_ regret that, but at the moment, the only thing he really is sorry about is how all his dildos are packed up tight in a box at Scott’s apartment.

So he’s only a little shocked when Derek steps back, eyebrows furrowed and mouth in a scowl and snaps back. “What the fuck is up your ass, Stiles?”

Stiles doesn’t have time to be surprised about Derek being anything less than kind and patient with him. He’s too fucking horny and too fucking frustrated to care that much.

He also figures it must be because his awful mood has finally caught up with Derek, which is no wonder. He is kind impressed Derek managed to hold out for this long. He knows what a fucking annoying little shit he can be when he’s in a foul mood.

And well, let it be known once and for all that Stiles truly has no brain to mouth filter. “Well, it sure isn’t _your dick_.”

Derek goes from looking like he’s going to apologize for the outburst to looking gobsmacked in two seconds flat.

His, “What,” doesn’t even come out as a question when he says it, voice weak and wavering like he can’t quite believe what he just heard.

And Stiles just _breaks._ He does not have the patience for this right now. “I’m so fucking horny _all the time_ now because of stupid fucking pregnancy hormones.” He narrows his eyes at Derek, “You fucking did this to me, now get over here and fucking _fix it_.”

And woah, make a note ladies and gentlemen. Stiles has a _dirty mouth_ when he’s hormonal.

He knows this isn’t usual behavior for him, he’s actually kind of surprised with himself, but he can’t really help it.He hopes Derek isn’t judging him too harshly right now.

Derek, whose eyes widen as he looks between the incredulous look on Stiles’s face and the only _too obvious_ bulge in his pants. In any other situation, Stiles would probably be laughing his ass off at the astonished look on Derek’s face but now is not the time.

He’s pretty sure he’s _dying of sexual frustration_ right now.

Derek though, wordlessly walks closer until he’s right by where Stiles is slouched on the couch and sinks to his knees in between Stiles’s splayed legs.

And just as he’s about to, hopefully, fall face down on Stiles’s dick, Stiles stops him.

Because he doesn’t think he’s suffering enough already.

“You’re not just doing this because you feel like you have to, right?” Stiles asks, licking his lips. “I know— I know what I said. That you did this and you, you need to fix it. But I didn’t mean— You don’t have to just because of that. Just because you think this is your fault or you owe me something. I can— I’m like horny all the time, dude, and it’s super frustrating. But you don’t have to— I can deal with it on my own. I’ll probably have to buy a few toys to keep me— But I can do that if you don’t want to.”

Derek looks up at him from under his lashes, cheeks flushed and eyes dark.

He hesitates a little before he starts speaking, as if he’s measuring his words. “Trust me, Stiles, _I want to._ ”

“Are you sure?”

Derek just raises an eyebrow at him and gets this determined look on his face right before he _starts mouthing at Stiles’s dick through his sweats._

And yeah, Stiles is officially dead.

Derek hasn’t even actually touched his dick yet, and already his brain feels like a pile of mush.

What little awareness he _does_ have is dedicated to trying to take his fucking pants _off_ , and he nearly knees Derek in the face in his single-minded enthusiasm.

When they _finally_ get Stiles out of his pants—with a lot of wiggling on Stiles’s part—, Derek immediately swallows Stiles down, one hand grabbing the base of Stiles’s dick while the other goes to his inner thigh, thumb rubbing circles over the skin.

Stiles tangles his hands in Derek’s hair, tugging the strands in encouragement, feeling himself get wetter and wetter as Derek bobs his head up and down, swirls his tongue under the head of Stiles’s dick, hollows his cheeks and _sucks_.

He knows Derek can smell it, knows Derek must be aware of how wet he’s making Stiles, how much Stiles is enjoying his mouth on him. Especially when Derek inches his hand up and starts tracing one of his fingers over Stiles’s rim, teasing him, rubbing at the slickness there.

And Stiles is _so_ close to coming, he just needs Derek to stop toying with him.

He thinks he must say something, like gasping out Derek’s name and _please_. Or it must be the way he shoves down on Derek’s hand and manages to get just the tip of Derek’s finger inside.

Whatever it is, it gets Derek to start slowly fucking one finger into him as he sucks Stiles off. Stiles almost sobs with relief, but  even the tip of Derek’s middle finger brushing against his prostate every other thrust or so is _still_ somehow not enough to make him come.

He moves his hands from Derek’s hair reluctantly, pulling his shirt off and moving to rub his own nipples. He’s always liked playing with them, and he figures the added sensitivity brought on by the pregnancy will only make things better right now.

Before before he can, however, Derek slaps his hands away, glaring impressively at him while still having his lips stretched around Stiles’s dick.

Stiles glares back. And he’s about to open his mouth and tell Derek to just let him when Derek stops fingering him and uses his slick covered hand to play with Stiles’s nipples.

And that’s—

That’s heaven.

And all it takes for him to tip over the edge, spilling down Derek’s throat.

It’s utter and complete sex-induced bliss.

So much so it’s a couple minutes before Stiles is aware of his surroundings again, and does so realizing that Derek is fingering him again and slowly rearranging them on the couch so Stiles is lying back and Derek is settled between his legs.

And that’s when Stiles realizes that that’s not what he wants at all, and before he can really think it through he pushes at Derek’s chest and blurts out, “No!”

Derek freezes and immediately starts backing away, first scrambling backwards on the couch so he’s no longer touching Stiles, and then stumbling off it and backing up against the wall. He looks fucking horrified, like he’s committed a terrible offense, and Stiles can’t let him think that.

So he just gets up from his spot on the couch and moves closer to Derek, too busy wanting to wipe that look off Derek’s face to bother with his own nakedness, and slaps a hand over Derek’s mouth when Derek tries to apologize.

“That’s not what I meant,” Stiles starts, voice low and soft. “Although I do appreciate you backing off so fast I thought you’d break something. I just— Look, you got to taste my cock. I think it’s only fair I get the same opportunity,” he says, smirking at the way Derek’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline and his pupils dilating so much that there is only the barest hint of Alpha red surrounding them.

And that—plus Derek’s brief nod—tells Stiles that not only Derek is okay with that happening, but he also wants it a lot.

Stiles sinks to his knees in front of Derek, the floor cool against his skin, and hooks his fingers in Derek’s pants, dragging them down his legs.

Derek leans against the wall, staring down as Stiles curls his hands around Derek’s hips, fingers resting on the swell of Derek’s ass and thumbs rubbing small circles on Derek’s skin.

Stiles licks his lips, mouth watering at the sight of Derek’s dick right there, so close to him. He didn’t really have the chance during heat week to appreciate just how fine Derek is, so now he lets himself look his fill.

He has to say, he likes what he’s seeing.

He likes it _a lot_.

He takes one hand from Derek’s hips to wrap it around his dick, stroking him a few times as he gets used to the feeling of Derek in his hand. He’s rewarded with a sharp intake of breath from Derek, muscles tensing as he tries his best not to move.

That makes Stiles’s lips twitch, knowing Derek is still this careful with him.

Not that he needs it.

And he tells Derek as much, right after licking a stripe up his dick from base to head.

“You can fuck my mouth if you want. I don’t mind.”

Derek blinks at him, eyes wide and mouth open in surprise.

“Are you—,” Derek stops, gulps. “Are you sure?”

Stiles gives him much the same look Derek gave him when he asked that question earlier, and wastes no time in getting Derek’s dick in mouth.

He moans around him when Derek lets out a growl at that, relaxing his jaw and getting his hands on Derek’s ass. Stiles gives his cheeks an encouraging squeeze when Derek hesitates, and that’s all it takes for Derek to start thrusting slowly into Stiles’s mouth.

Stiles takes one of his hands off Derek’s ass and curls it around Derek’s wrist instead, moving it over so it’s resting in his hair. It doesn’t take Derek long to get the hint, fingers tangling through Stiles’s messy strands.

Stiles goes pliant, letting Derek move him how he wants him, and it’s not long before Derek’s entire body is tensing and he’s gasping Stiles’s name as he comes in Stiles’s mouth. Stiles swallows it all, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the taste on his tongue.

He makes a little hurt noise when Derek’s dick slips from his mouth, throat and lips feeling used and raw and completely wrecked.

Stiles kind of loves it.

And he’s happy he gets to experience this now, without the haze of heat clouding his senses.

Derek helps him up, pulling Stiles close with a hand on his waist. He leans in, but hesitates just shy of kissing him.

“Is this—,” Derek starts, eyes darting to Stiles’s lips. “Is it okay if I—”

“I just had your dick in my mouth,” Stiles rolls his eyes. “ _And_ you did the same. I’m more than okay with us kissing and making out if you wanna.”

“That’s—,” Derek breathes out. “Yeah.”

Stiles is smiling a little when Derek presses their lips together, teeth clinking, but soon enough he’s kissing Derek back, slow and deep.

He’s feeling a lot better than before, less frustrated and like he’s about to go out of his mind withdesire. In reality, he’s getting kind of sleepy, something Derek takes notice as Stiles starts leaning against him as they kiss.

“C’mon,” Derek says, running a hand through Stiles’s hair. “I think it’s time for your nap.”

Stiles mumbles an agreement, letting Derek lead him to one of the bedrooms. It’s not until he’s climbing into bed and falling facedown on the sheets that he realizes it’s _Derek’s_ room, the scent of leather, and mint, and _Derek_ filling his nose.

And if Stiles rubs his cheek against the pillow and inhales deeply? No one needs to know.

The mattress dips when Derek slides in behind him, and Stiles feels a tentative hand curl around his hip not long after. Stiles grabs it, tangling their fingers together, and rests their hands right over his bump.

He goes to sleep like that, with Derek’s breath ghosting over the back of his neck and his thumb rubbing circles over the swell of his stomach.

And he wakes up already half hard, Derek’s index finger tracing lightly over his hole, a light pressure that’s almost teasing.

It reminds him of back during his heat when Derek wasn’t sure of what he could and couldn’t do, always hesitant with his touches and never pushing before getting a go ahead from Stiles. Stiles probably appreciates this more than Derek knows. It’s good to know he’s with someone that respects his boundaries and doesn’t just take what they want from him.

“Derek.” He turns his head so that he’s facing Derek who’s propped up on one elbow and is staring at Stiles’s ass. “We need to talk about this, don’t we?”

Derek meets his gaze and moves his hand to Stiles’s belly, his thumb circling lightly on the swell of his bump. “That’s probably a good idea.”

Stiles makes a face and sticks his lower lip out in a pout. “Can’t we just keep doing what we just did?” He waggles his eyebrows. “In several different positions?”

Derek’s lips twitch upwards for a nanosecond, but he adopts a serious expression nearly right after. “We shouldn’t be joking.”

“Right, sorry,” Stiles sighs. “Look, it’s not like I’m going to go have sex with someone else. I wouldn’t do that. I’m just horny _all the time_ and we’re attracted to each other right?”

Stiles stops, looks up at Derek from under his lashes, and hopes that Derek is still attracted him, bump and all.

Derek licks his lips, eyes traveling slowly from Stiles’s face, down to his body, and then back up again.

Stiles fights the urge to squirm. He guesses that answers his question though.

Derek still goes ahead and says it, though.

“Yes, I think we’ve established we’re attracted to each other,” Derek gives him a faint smile, right before his eyes turn serious again. “And I wouldn’t, either. Be sleeping with someone else. I haven’t— Not even before— But I wouldn’t. Not while we’re doing this.”

“Okay,” Stiles nods, eyes glinting. “So I can stop jerking off a hundred times a day, then?”

Derek’s ears turn red, but his lips curl up in a smirk. “I’m surprised your dick hasn’t fallen off yet.”

Stiles laughs, delighted.

It still surprises him whenever Derek’s playful like this. He likes it, though, and wishes it’d happen more often.

“Your loss if it did,” Stiles says, winking.

“Yeah?” Derek raises an eyebrow. “Why don’t you show me?”

Stiles’s stomach flips at the challenge, but he has other ideas.

“I don’t know. I’ve kind of been wanting you to fuck me again since heat week ended.”

“Yeah?” Derek swallows.

“You have no idea.”

Derek looks down at Stiles’s dick, now hard and flushed against his stomach. “I think I do.”

“What do you say, big guy?” Stiles inches closer, bringing a hand up to cup Derek’s cheek. “You up for it?”

It turns out, Derek is.

He’s _way more_ than up for it.

And he proves it by blowing Stiles while he preps him, not even needing that much lube since pregnancy hormones make Stiles slick and wet like he’s in heat again.

It’s _amazing_.

Especially when he’s fully aware of every inch of Derek as he pushes inside and starts fucking him, one hand wrapped around Stiles’s dick and jerking him off in time with his thrusts.

And when Derek times it perfectly—sliding one finger under the head of Stiles’s dick at the same time as he rakes his teeth over Stiles’s pulse point _,_ Stiles comes so hard he actually whites out for a couple moments.

And yeah.

Stiles is _so_ on board with this new plan.

* * *

After that first time, it’s like the sex dams break.

Derek starts getting home only to get hit in the face with the smell of _sex_ and _Stiles_ everywherein his apartment. He doesn’t know whether this is the best thing that’s ever happened to him or worst.

Stiles spends most nights in Derek’s bed now—passing out almost immediately after he gets off.

And it’s not uncommon at all for Derek to follow his nose and find Stiles on Derek’s bed or the couch or one of the office arm chairs stroking himself and with his shirt off. He knows Stiles does that more for his benefit than anything else, since Derek likes to stare at his stomach, at the proof that his child is growing and healthy.

Not to mention, Stiles takes blatant advantage of that fact. For the first time since he moved in, Stiles has been waking up early—before Derek leaves for work.He’s also taken to walking around the apartment naked, something Stiles tells Derek he does because his pants fit tight and his nipples feel too sensitive.

Derek thinks there’s a good chance he’s lying. And yes, maybe Stiles’s heart doesn’t flip, but Derek has a feeling that’s hardly the only reason why Stiles keeps doing that. The way Derek reacts to seeing him naked and the bump in full view might also have something to do with it.

Stiles saunters lazily into the bathroom one morning while Derek’s brushing his teeth, knowing full well that the mirror above the sink gives Derek an _excellent_ view of the shower.

Derek watches as he leans against the wall under the spray, eyes shut and mouth in a lazily smile and strokes his dick slowly. Derek knows he’s gaping, and snaps his mouth shut when he realizes he’s actually drooling a little.

And then Stiles’s smile turns into a smirk as he rubs his other hand over his bump. Because he _knows_ what that does to Derek. So much so he starts _laughing_ when Derek spits and rinses his mouth and wastes no time in taking his clothes off and getting into the shower.

Nevermind that he’s showered already.

Derek flips Stiles around so that he’s bracing his arms against the wall and grabs the soap. He starts with Stiles’s legs, soaping up his calves and thighs before getting to his ass. He spends a little more time kneading his cheeks and cleaning him up than necessary, but Stiles doesn’t complain.

Once he’s done washing Stiles’s back, he slips his arms around Stiles’s waist, washing over the swell of his belly and then moving up to thumb at his nipples. Stiles arches into Derek’s hands at the same time he grinds his ass back against Derek’s dick, making Derek gasp at the sensation.

“Someone’s up,” Stiles teases breathlessly, twisting his head to the side so he can look at Derek.

“I wonder why,” Derek says dryly, one hand sliding down to rest on Stiles’s stomach. “You did that on purpose.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stiles bats his lashes, knowing his heartbeat betrays him.

“Should I just go, then?” Derek says, mouthing at Stiles’s shoulder. “And leave you here to take care of this _alone_?”

Derek makes his point by abandoning Stiles’s nipple so he can wrap a hand around Stiles’s dick, smiling when it twitches in his palm.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Stiles hisses, snapping his hips forward. “Don’t you _dare_.”

Derek chuckles, rubbing his stubble against the side of Stiles’s neck, and lets go of Stiles’s cock so he can slip a finger inside of him, only to realize that Stiles is already stretched and open.

And Derek can’t help the groan he lets out at the thought of Stiles fingering himself in Derek’s bed, getting himself ready, so turned on and eager he couldn’t wait for Derek to do it himself.

“Fucking hell,” Derek curses, adding a second finger as he slowly fucks in and out of Stiles.

Stiles smirks, bumps his nose against Derek’s cheek, and says, “Faster if I do it myself. I wouldn’t want you being late for work because you were busy opening me up for you.”

“My company would survive,” Derek blurts out, because he can’t see a downside to being the one to stretch Stiles before fucking him.

Stiles smirk turns into a soft smile, cheeks flushing slightly. “Good to know.”

Derek huffs and kisses him, swallowing the soft sounds of pleasure Stiles makes as Derek keeps fingering him.

“Are you—”

“Get your dick in me, Derek,” Stiles gasps, resting his forehead against the tiled wall. “Or I’ll finish this myself.”

Derek doesn’t need to be told twice.

And in the end, even with Stiles being the one to prep himself, Derek still ends up being twenty minutes late for work.

But that might be because somehow their second shower turns into Derek eating Stiles out and Stiles jerking them both off until they come. Not that anyone needs to know.

* * *

It’s about a week after Stiles seduced Derek in the shower, and they’re dozing off naked in Derek’s bed after another round of _amazing_ sex.

Stiles is distracted by Derek stroking his fingers lightly over his stomach, lids heavy and limbs loose. He’s pretty sure he could spend the entire weekend like this, just the two of them, between fucking and sleeping and cuddling and only getting up to grab something to eat and use the bathroom.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t realize Derek’s speaking to him until Derek nudges his cheek with his nose, lips resting against the edge of Stiles’s jaw.

“What was that?” Stiles asks drowsily.

Stiles feels Derek pressing a smile against his skin, stopping the soothing motions of his hand in favor of covering Stiles’s belly with his palm.

“You’re okay with how things are going, right? It’s— You’re good, aren’t you?”

Stiles turns around, snuggling as closer to Derek as he can with his growing bump in the way, Derek’s hand now on his side, thumb tracing his skin.

“I am,” Stiles tells him, and then smirks. “The only time I wasn’t was when I was climbing off the walls in sexual frustration.”

Derek snorts, rolling his eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

Stiles pushes at him. Or tries to, because Derek doesn’t budge, just grabs Stiles’s hand and presses it against his chest.

“Really, though,” Stiles says, feeling Derek’s heartbeat under his palm. “I’m good. More than.”

“That’s good,” Derek murmurs. “And you don’t have to wait until your breaking point to ask for something. _Anything_ , really.”

“I know that now,” Stiles assures him. “And I promise I won’t wait until I’m going crazy to mention something.”

Derek nods, but doesn’t say anything else.

He looks like he wants to, though, with the way he keeps opening his mouth only to close it back up again.

So Stiles adds, “You shouldn’t wait to ask for something you want, either. It won’t mean I’ll always be cool with what you want, but you should always ask so we can at least talk about it.”

Derek’s hand stops moving against his side and Stiles can feel Derek’s heart rate go crazy under his palm. He also looks like a deer caught in the headlights, eyes wide and afraid.

Stiles fights back a smile. “Ask me.”

Derek lets out a breath before he starts talking—faster than Stiles has ever heard him speak before. “Do you think I could talk to the baby?” Derek’s ears and the apples of his cheeks turn a sudden, furious shade of red and Stiles wants to coo at him. “I’ve, uh, read about parents doing that. Talking at the bump, that is. It’s supposed to help the baby recognize my voice after he or she is born.”

Stiles kind of blinks for a minute, caught off guard because that’s really not what he was expecting at all. But the thought of Derek wanting the kid to _know his voice_ is so cute that he can’t help but agree.

“Of course you can,” he blurts out when Derek starts to look like asking for this was a horrible idea. “Baby Hale should definitely know his daddy’s voice. He might as well know _now_ that he’s already got you wrapped around his finger.”

Derek snorts. “I think you and Erica have been spending too much time together.”

Stiles scoffs, “Not even possible.”

Derek rolls his eyes, but Stiles can _tell_ that he was pleased by that comment. And then his eyes widen comically as he stares at Stiles.

“You said _he_ ,” Derek says then, in a low, awed voice.

And Stiles isn’t sure if Derek’s babbling or if he’s just too tired to followthis particular line of conversation right now.

“What?” he says, stupidly, eyes sliding shut as he curls closer to Derek’s warmth.

Derek shifts to make room for him and when he speaks, Stiles can feel Derek’ chest vibrating against his shoulder. “You called the baby a he. We don’t know that yet.”

Oh.

Stiles shrugs, eyes still closed, “I just have a feeling.”

“Yeah?” Derek asks quietly, still sounding a bit dazed. “A baby boy?”

“Don’t take my word for it,” Stiles tells him. “The baby might turn out to be a girl and there go all your hopes and dreams.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Derek says seriously. “My mother and sisters were one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. And Erica both terrifies and impresses me nearly every day.”

Stiles snorts. “You’re right about that. That’s exactly how I feel about Kira and Lydia, too.”

He doesn’t comment on the use of past tense when Derek speaks about his family, just places his hands on top of Derek’s on his stomach.

“You can talk to my stomach,” Stiles says. “Get your cub used to you, because we all know he must be tired of listening to my voice by now.”

“You should really stop singing while you shower. And when you cook. And clean,” Derek teases.

“Shut up. My singing is a gift.”

“Not to my ears, it isn’t.”

Stiles huffs. “You’re awful.”

“I’m the best,” Derek says dryly.

“Just talk to your kid,” Stiles pats the back of Derek’s hand. “Start by introducing yourself, and I’ll just stay here and fall asleep.”

He feels Derek shifting on the bed, and a second later he hears Derek’s voice, low and hesitant, “Hey, cub. I’m your daddy.”

* * *

Derek’s happy he asked if he could talk to his child, but to say he’s uncomfortable now that he’s doing it would be an understatement.

He never really took into consideration that _Stiles_ would be there whenever he did talk to the baby, so after he introduces himself it takes him a few tries before he manages to say anything else.

Especially because half the time he keeps thinking Stiles will probably make some sort of a joke and maybe make fun of him as soon as he opens his mouth again.

Not that Stiles does.

Stiles is almost asleep, but when he realizes Derek hasn’t said anything else, he taps his fingers on the skin just above his belly button and says, “This is gonna be your future son or daughter. You need to learn how to communicate with other people, so you better start now.”

Derek frowns. “I’ve been doing alright with you.”

He knows he’s not that great at talking to people, but he figures he’s gotten a bit better at that since meeting Stiles.

“It’s true, but now you need to learn how to talk to your baby. I won’t be around after he’s born to help you.”

Derek doesn’t know if the way his heart clenches in his chest is because he’s afraid he’ll be left alone with the baby once he or she is born or because _Stiles_ will leave.

He decides not to think about it, not right now.

Instead he makes a face at Stiles and tries to pretend he doesn’t have a point.

Stiles just raises an eyebrow at him.

So Derek takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, and talks to his baby for the first time.

“I have a lot to tell you,” he sighs, wracking his brain and wondering where to start. “I guess you should probably know that I’m a werewolf. I don’t know if you’re going to be one or not, but that doesn’t really matter to me.” He shrugs, despite the fact that no one is actually looking at him right now. “I’ve, uh, been an Alpha for a number of years now and I have a small pack with three Betas, all bitten.” He smiles. “They’re going to be _your_ pack, too. Your family, actually.”

Derek presses his lips together. He’s not sure he really wants to go into that fiasco just yet. Or ever. He knows he’ll have to eventually, but he figures he can talk about it after they’ve been doing this for a while.

“You were supposed to have a _huge_ family, cub, but they got taken away from us. Our new one is pretty great, though,” he says, because he at least can give his baby that. “Erica’s the only girl. She’s stubborn and irritating at the worst times, but also one of the most selfless, caring, and motivating people I know. She’s probably the one you should  go to for help with schoolwork. She’s absolutely the smartest out of all us, for sure. Just please never go to her for advice.”

He ignores Stiles’s soft snort at that, and keeps talking. He doesn’t want to lose his nerve.

“Boyd is who you go to for help if you feel like you can’t talk to me about it. I know having an Alpha for a dad or mom can be scary, and sometimes talking to another packmate sounds better. And Boyd? He’s a good listener and he won’t judge you. Not out loud anyways. And he’s always willing to help, even if it doesn’t seem like it.” Derek runs his hands through his hair, and he probably shouldn’t say this, but it’s still useful information. “He’s probably also the best person to go to if you ever need to hide a body. He’s built like a tank with a perpetual poker face.”

Derek sees Stiles smile lazily at that, eyes closed and face relaxed like he’s seconds away from falling asleep. Derek moves closer to the bump and adopts an even softer voice.

“Isaac’s the kindest soul you’ve ever met. He had a rough time during his childhood but he’s grown out of it. He’s pretty much Snow White now, but don’t tell him I said that. Small animals don’t seem to notice he’s a wolf, so they’re not afraid of having him around. If you ever feel like going to the zoo, don’t bother, just head on over to Isaac’s. He’s got basically a menagerie in his apartment.” Derek snorts.

Last time he was over at Isaac’s apartment, he had somehow managed to procure a mini Bearded dragon. The thing had just sat on Isaac’s shoulder the entire time Derek was there.

Stiles is asleep now, snoring lightly and Derek smiles. “Bet you’re warm and comfy in there, huh? Stiles is taking good care of you for me until you’re ready to meet me, cub. He’s doing a pretty good job, don’t you think so?” Derek rubs at the soft skin under Stiles’s belly for a minute before continuing, “He’s kinda great, huh? But don’t tell him I said that, either. He’ll never let me live it down.”

Derek’s smiling a little now, feeling himself grow more and more tired as he keeps talking.

“I can’t wait to meet you,” Derek murmurs. “I didn’t really know it till a few months ago, but I’ve been waiting for you for a _long_ time. I hope you like me, because I know I’m going to love you more than anyone else in my entire life.” He stops, and suddenly remembers what his dad used to tell him and his sisters before tucking them in at night. “I’m going to love you to the moon and back. And that’s a promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update: **August 22nd, around 5pm EST.**


	12. Putting it my way, but nicely, you are precisely, my cup of tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is asleep. Or at least he _until_ something woke him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments! The ones from the last ch especially made us smile like idiots. <3
> 
> And this chapter is on the shorter side, but we hope you guys like it.
> 
> Chapter title from [Getting To Know You (Julie Andrews)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4MNANgFCYpk). And as usual, here’s the [Settle Down 'Verse Breakdown](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/sdch) in case you need it.
> 
> xoxo,  
> J & P

Stiles is asleep.

Or at least he _was_ until something woke him up.

Not that he can figure out _what_ in the half-asleep half-awake state he’s in, rubbing his eyes with his hands and sitting up on the bed as he tries to understand what’s happening.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait long. Because as soon as he blinks a few times and looks around the room as if trying to find what disturbed him, something in his stomach _moves_.

And it _kicks him_.

From _the inside_.

He gasps, hands going to his stomach, and he can _feel_ how his heartbeat goes way up because _the baby’s kicking_.

For the first time. In the middle of the night.

He has to tell Derek.

Stiles is halfway off his bed when suddenly the bedroom door bursts open and Derek rushes over to him, claws out and ready, red eyes flashing and scanning the room as if looking for threats. He even goes as far as asking, voice rough the way it always is when he’s shifted, “Are we under attack?”

Stiles likes to think that if he wasn’t so startled by what was happening, he would have probably laughed until he cried. Derek looks _ridiculous_ , hair all messy and sticking out in a million directions, sleep shirt wrinkled and riding up on one side. His eyes are still darting around the room, face wrinkling in confusion as he starts to realize they’re the only ones in there.

As it is, all Stiles manages to do is look at Derek with wide eyes and say, “ _We_ aren’t, but my bladder is.”

Derek turns to him, still shifted, and Stiles can only tell he’s frowning in confusion by the way his lips are turned down. And all Stiles can _do_ is grab one of his hands, noticing how Derek declaws as soon as Stiles touches him, and press it against his stomach.

“What—,” Derek starts asking, only to cut off about three seconds later.

Right when the baby decides to kick again.

And Stiles is pretty sure he’ll never _ever_ forget the way he still somehow can’t do anything but stare down at his belly as the baby moves. _Or_ the way Derek’s eyes are as round as saucers, his front teeth peeking out from behind his parted lips, surprise flashed all over his face.

“Is that—,” Derek starts, only to be stilled into silence when the baby kicks _again_ , shifting slightly so he’s thankfully no longer pushing against Stiles’s bladder. He tries again. “That’s—”

Stiles stares at him, still kind of shocked into silence but amused. “It’s your kid. Your _kid_ is playing with my internal organs like they’re a drum set.”

They can both tell that despite Stiles’s words, he’s just as awed and excited and _ecstatic_ as Derek is.

“How does it feel?”

“Kind of weird, to be honest,” Stiles says, wrinkling his nose and staring down at his stomach. “Like, fluttery? But also strong. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Derek nods like it makes complete sense to him.

He also slides Stiles’s shirt up his stomach, baring the bump to him, and settles his palm against Stiles’s skin. Stiles ignores the way his stomach flips at the contact, just takes in the awe still present in Derek’s eyes.

The baby seems to know exactly where Derek’s hand is, kicking for the third time, and Derek smiles, small and soft and amazed and like he can’t quite believe this is happening. And then he’s moving, scooting down on the bed so his head is near Stiles’s stomach.

He leans in then, skimming his nose over the swell of Stiles’s belly, breath ghosting over Stiles’s skin. Stiles ignores the way his heart constricts in his chest when Derek starts nuzzling him, scenting him, breathing him in. Or should he say—nuzzling his cub, scenting him, breathing him in. Derek keeps at it, all the while rubbing circles with his thumb over the skin. Lightly, over and over, until Stiles feels himself drift back into sleep.

* * *

Derek has to say that feeling his baby move and kick for the first time is probably one of the best and most incredible things that ever happened to him. It’s up there right next to the day he was first able to catch the sound of the baby’s heart beating.

And it only gets better as the days go by and he still can come up to Stiles and slide his hands under Stiles’s shirt, cradling his stomach, and feeling his child move under his hands.

Not that he didn’t touch the bump a lot before, considering Stiles gave him full permission to do so whenever he wanted. But before he tried to limit the touches towhen they were alone at home, sometimes sneaking a few whenever they went to _The Little Fox Cafe_ or out to dinner together.

But now?

Now he’s being so _obvious_ , and Stiles keeps sending him amused glances whenever he sits down close to him on the couch and doesn’t hesitate to lay a hand over the bump. Or whenever they’re out shopping for maternity clothes and Derek keeps stroking his hand over the bump as Stiles complains about elastic waistbands on his jeans. Or when they go for a check up with Dr. Deaton, Derek stays close, one hand on Stiles’s shoulder and the other rubbing reassuring circles over Stiles’s side.

Even the Betas take notice of all the touching that’s been going on. They’re suspicious at first, not really knowing what to make of Derek being so _touchy_ when before Stiles got pregnant he only offered limited affection to his packmates. But, they don’t say anything until the three of them are having dinner at Derek’s one night, deciding to ask Derek what that’s all about when Stiles excused himself to go to the bathroom.

And that’s one thing Stiles isn’t excited about the pregnancy—all the bathroom breaks. He curses under his breath and complains to Derek all about it whenever the baby kicks and he feels like he needs to pee or _he’ll die_.

Something he does as he walks to the bathroom, glaring down without any heat at his stomach and not faltering when Derek strokes his knuckles against the bump as he walks by.

Derek’s eyes track him as he leaves the room, only to turn back to his betas to see them watching him keenly.

“What?” Derek frowns.

They don’t answer right away, instead exchange quick glances between themselves. It seems as if they’re trying to decide who should be the one to speak first, and that more than anything tells Derek they’re not sure how he’s going to take what they want to talk to him about.

That brings him back to the first few months, or couple of years really, of them being pack. The Betas were a lot more hesitant to question him about some things, and the few times they did it was always with measured words and eyes cast down in a display of submission.

Derek thought they’d managed to deal with that, so it’s not a very good feeling seeing them this uncertain.

After a few more seconds of silence Erica huffs, rolling her eyes at Isaac and Boyd before squaring her shoulders and turning to him. Sometimes he reminds her so much of his sisters it makes him ache. Cora absolutely would have done the same thing.

“What’s that all about?” Erica asks, tilting her head in the direction Stiles disappeared to.

“You know the baby moves around a lot,” Derek says slowly, feeling confused. “It puts pressure on Stiles’s bladder, that’s why he—”

“I know why he pees all the time, that’s not what I meant,” Erica waves a hand at him.

“Then what do you—”

“The touching,” Boyd says bluntly. “That’s what she means. You’ve put your hands on his stomach one way or another around twenty times since we got here.”

Derek’s mouth snaps shut with a click.

Although he appreciates Boyd’s ability to not dance around a subject, he doesn’t really understand what the big deal about this is. Stiles is carrying his child, after all. He should be allowed to feel his son or daughter.

He’s about to tell them just that, but Isaac beats him to it.

“We’re just not used to seeing you like this,” Isaac explains, getting nods from Erica and Boyd.

“Like this?”

“You know, all touchy-feely.”

“I’m— That’s—,” Derek sputters.

He can _feel_ the tips of his years turning red.

“We’re not saying it’s a bad thing,” Erica pats him on the arm. “You’re usually like that only with us, with pack. So seeing you like this with Stiles is new. But I guess it makes sense considering the baby is also pack.”

Derek nods, more out of shock than anything.

To him, touching Stiles seems like something natural. He doesn’t give much thought about it, not since gaining permission from Stiles to do so as he pleased. Actually, it’s not until now that he’s realized just how uncommon that type of behavior is for him.

But Erica does have a point.

The baby is pack, his child not only by name but by blood, so wanting to feel him or her close, against his hands, is instinct.

Luckily he’s saved from having to say anything, because Stiles walks back in the room then, rubbing his hands together and talking to the bump under his breath about the baby being still enough so he can go through dinner and eat without getting interrupted.

Derek’s betas aren’t the only ones who notice all the touching and make comments about it.

The next day, they’re having lunch with Stiles’s pack and Derek is _very_ aware of the looks Scott and Jackson are giving him—looks that linger a bit too long at Derek’s hand on Stiles’s stomach.

It makes him feel a little self conscious—not enough to want to stop, but enough that he wishes they would justlook away.

He doesn’t really know how to bring that up though.

Scott’s looks are mostly curious and confused, but Jackson’s are surprisingly understanding and Derek wonders if he did the same thing with Danny when he was pregnant.

He guesses as much, because from what he’s seen of Jackson, he’s inclined to think that the guy tries to get by with as little touching (except with Dawn and Lydia) as possible.

He gets his suspicions confirmed when Stiles goes help Scott with the food and Jackson sits by him, Dawn on his lap.

“So, the touching, huh?”

Derek feels his cheeks heating a little. “I’ve been informed by my pack that there’s been a lot of it.”

“Yeah,” Jackson nods, glancing down at Dawn and running his fingers through her hair as she tries to eat his shirt. “I was pretty bad when Danny was pregnant. It was instinct wanting to be close and touching her, and I was lucky Danny didn’t mind it.”

“Stiles doesn’t either,” Derek says, and he’s eternally grateful for that.

“Like he would,” Jackson snorts. “That one would never say no to cuddling.”

“Oh?” Derek blinks, interested. There’s obviously a story there.

“I think before pack, when he was a kid, he didn’t really have much of it,” Jackson comments, suddenly serious. “Just from Scott and his dad. So now that we’re all really close, he revels in it. Like he wants to compensate for what he missed.”

Derek frowns, chest tight.

He’s obviously figured out Stiles’s mother isn’t in the picture anymore, seeing as he only ever really talks to and about his dad. He didn’t know he lost her when he was a child, though, and can understand how hard that must have been for him.

“Well,” Derek clears his throat. “I’ll keep at it until he tells me to stop.”

“You’ll keep at it forever then,” Jackson says with a smirk.

And Dawn claps her hands, as if agreeing.

Derek thinks that’s not so bad. He doesn’t mind being close to Stiles.

Something he knows the others have noticed, because of the _looks_.

What bothers him most is the way Lydia and Kira keep glancing at him, with small smiles on their lips, like they know something he doesn’t. He doesn’t doubt that’d be the case with Lydia— banshees are notorious for knowing more about life than they let on—, but Kira staring at him like she’s aware of something he isn’t kind of makes him uncomfortable.

Kitsunes are known for being mischievous, and Derek has _seen_ Kira get into all sorts of trouble. Not to mention get _other people_ into embarrassing situations.

Derek doesn’t like to think about that.

Not that Kira offers anything when Derek goes to ask her about it.

“It’s nothing,” Kira says, patting him in the arm and smiling.

Derek narrows his eyes at her.

“Nothing with you usually means _something_.”

“That is true,” Kira nods, and then tilts her head to the side. “Oops, I’d love to keep talking to you about this but Scott’s calling me to help in the kitchen.”

Derek opens his mouth, but before he can say anything Kira skips away, stopping only to give Lydia a light hip check.

“Scott didn’t call her,” Derek mumbles.

And Lydia looks his way, grinning as if she heard him.

Derek suddenly feels very worried about all of this.

But he doesn’t have any time to dwell on that, because Stiles comes out of the kitchen carrying a huge stack of plates. And that’s just— That shouldn’t be _happening_. Stiles knows better than to carry around weight.

So Derek walks up to him, using a bit of his wolf speed so he can get to him faster than he normally would, and takes the plates from him.

“Oh my god, Derek,” Stiles groans. “Nothing’s gonna happen if I bring this to the table.”

“You don’t mind if I do it, then,” Derek pipes up, lips curling up when Stiles huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.

That makes the shirt he’s wearing stretch tight around his middle, and Derek can’t help but cover the bump with his hands as soon as he places the plates on the dining room table.

Stiles rolls his eyes, but lets him.

Derek’s pleased.

Because Stiles continues to not shy away from his touches even in the presence of his pack. Sometimes he even rests his hand on top of Derek’s or grabs Derek’s writs and presses Derek’s palm to his belly when the baby kicks.

Kind of like now, as he wraps his fingers around Derek’s first and moves his hand so it’s resting more on his side, and a few seconds later he can feel the baby move.

Derek tries not to look to smug when that happens.

By the way Jackson rolls his eyes at him, he thinks he fails.

And to add to the list of good things that keep happening—Derek would be suspicious if it wasn’t for Erica, Boyd, and Isaac constantly remind him he deserves happiness after what happen to him—, Stiles feels sensitive _everywhere_.

He _knows_ that Scott and Jackson get a whiff of Stiles’s arousal when Derek just barely brushes the underside of his wrists. Their noses wrinkle at the exact same time as they move back in their chairs as though they can escape the smell.

Stiles’s ears pinken, but he doesn’t stop his conversation with Lydia—just moves his hand away from Derek’s.

But Stiles is not shy about it when they’re alone at Derek’s apartment. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Most times he jumps Derek as soon as Derek gets home from work, dragging him to the bedroom and screwing him senseless. Other times, much to Derek’s amusement, Stiles tries to play it cool, tries to pretend Derek’s touch doesn’t affect him as much as it actually does.

And, during those times, all Derek has to do to get Stiles to admit he wants something is brush his fingers lightly against Stiles’s nipples or the skin under his navel or, weirdly enough, the underside of Stiles’s wrists. Derek doesn’t do anything more than that unless Stiles explicitly tells him to, though.

All in all, Derek’s really enjoying this ‘crazy pregnancy hormones’ thing.

Plus…

It doesn’t count as using it to his advantage if Stiles is enjoying it, too.

Right?

* * *

They’re sitting on the couch, Stiles trying to work on his book while a Buffy rerun plays in the background and Derek is drawing on his sketchpad.

Stiles can feel the baby wake up, moving around a little, and he knows that in about ten seconds he’ll probably receive a kick to his bladder and will have to get up and go pee. _Again_.

He’s already missing the precious moments of quiet when he could pretend to get some work done while the baby napped.

He sighs, shutting off his laptop after getting only a couple hundred words down and placing it on Derek’s coffee table.

Derek doesn’t look up from his drawing when Stiles leans back against the couch, resting one hand on top of his bump. But Stiles does feel Derek tense against him when the baby kicks.

They’re sitting so close together Derek can feel the baby’s kicks against his side.

Stiles watches with a small smile as Derek closes his sketchpad and throws it on the table, shifting on the couch so he’s facing Stiles.

“He’s waking up?”

Derek’s been referring to the baby as a ‘he’ since his talk with Stiles about him having a feeling the baby was going to be a boy.

Derek was born in a big family, had a lot of uncles, aunts, and cousins, and he knows enough to know that sometimes omegas just have a feeling if they’re having a boy or a girl.

“Yup,” Stiles nods. “Soon he’ll be kicking up a storm and I’ll have to go pee, so if you want cuddles you better get moving.”

Derek gives him a flat look, but still starts stroking the bump, sliding down the couch a little so he’s closer to the baby.

“Hey, cub,” Derek starts, and Stiles melts a little inside like he always does when hearing Derek’s term of endearment for his child. “Did you have a nice nap? I think so. It must be really warm and comfy in there, huh?”

“And it doesn’t hurt his daddy is a furnace and was sitting right beside me.”

“There’s that,” Derek rolls his eyes, lips twitching up.“Man, you’re already so strong, aren’t you? Gonna be a soccer player when you grow up?” Derek pauses for a moment, and Stiles wonders what he’s thinking. “I was partial to basketball myself, but soccer’s alright, I guess.”

Stiles smiles. “Maybe he’ll be artistic like his daddy. Take over the family business one day.”

Derek closes his eyes for a second but before he does, Stiles manages to catch a flash of red. Stiles watches his face as he takes a deep breath, worry lines smoothing out gradually, and when he opens them again, they’re back to his beautiful green.

They stare at each other for a moment before Derek finally replies, stumbling over the words a bit. “Whatever he wants. I just want him to be happy.”

Stiles hums. “I have no doubt that he will be.”  

Stiles shifts then, shirt riding up as he does so and and notices Derek’s eyes shift to the exposed skin by his bump. His pupils dilate the barest amount, and that’s literally all it takes for Stiles to get all hot and bothered. Not that it takes much these days.

He knows that he’s been taking advantage of Derek these past few weeks—giving Derek glimpses of the swell of his stomach, and his puffy nipples when he (shamelessly) walks around the apartment shirtless.He knows that Derek gets turned on when presented with the picture of a healthy partner carrying his child.

Not that Derek is any better.

Over the last week especially, Derek has become an expert at knowing what gets Stiles rock hard in about ten seconds flat.

It’s not even just his nipples anymore—it’s his wrists and shoulders and neck—everything. The minute he gets any bare skin-on-skin contact, he just immediately craves more.

Not that he’s left hanging for long.

He’s always claimed to hate it when werewolves can scent his arousal, but Derek being able to do so is a blessing.

It’s fucking amazing.

It means that about two blinks after Stiles got himself worked up Derek is on him. And then _in_ him. It’s the best.

He zones out a bit as Derek continues to talk to the baby, laying back, shutting his eyes, and letting the sound of Derek’s voice lull him into a half asleep state.

Only to have him be instantly awake and alert when Derek’s fingers brush against his right wrist so lightly that Stiles isn’t sure if he imagined it or not.

Stiles twists his head so he can look at Derek, who’s decidedly avoiding his gaze. He bites down on the inside of his cheek not to laugh, because that’s not suspicious _at all_.

And then Derek _does it again_ , fingers tracing the veins on Stiles’s wrist, making Stiles’s entire body shudder. And his dick twitch.

“Are you sure this is a game you want to play?” Stiles asks, raising an eyebrow when Derek blinks big, green, innocent eyes at him.

“What?”

“Because if you get me hard and don’t do anything about it, I’m gonna be upset,” Stiles says, licking his lips. “And by that I mean I’ll lock myself in the guestroom and get myself off. Without any help from _you_.”

Derek gulps, fingers still moving against Stiles’s wrist.

“I think me getting you hard is help enough,” Derek says slowly, smirking a little. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to also helping you taking care of it.”

“That’s so nice of you,” Stiles tells him, fighting a smile.

“I’m a very nice person,” Derek nods, face blank.

Stiles lasts about two beats before he’s bursting out laughing.

And then it takes about only one more before Derek is pulling him into a kiss.

Not even a full minute after that, both their shirts are off and Derek is nuzzling the skin on the underside of Stiles’s bump and rubbing circles over his nipples.

Stiles tangles his fingers in Derek’s hair and tugs, wanting him _away_ from the sensitive skin under his bump and kissing him again.  He also does his best to bat Derek’s hands away from his chest, his nipples already starting to pink and pebble.

“C’mon, Derek,” Stiles gasps, scratching his nails against Derek’s scalp. “Come here.”

Derek lets Stiles pull him up, licking from Stiles’s bellybutton to his collarbones along his sternum as he goes before claiming Stiles’s lips in a bruising kiss. They only kiss for a few moments before Derek is grabbing one of Stiles’s thighs so that he’s straddling Derek on the couch.

Stiles wonders if it’s the pregnancy or just _Derek_ but he’s never been so close to coming with just kissing and being touched by someone. And not even anything rated higher than PG-13 touching. They’re still on second base for crying out loud.

When he tips his head back to take a breath, Derek just keeps going, moving his mouth to Stiles’s jaw, neck, and Adam’s apple.

Derek moves to a spot on his collarbones, mouthing and sucking at the skin there for a _bit_ too long. Stiles wonders if that’ll leave a mark, surprises himself when he doesn’t care. He kind of actually wants it.

But then Derek ismoving his lips over to Stiles’s nipples and alternating between nips and licks, and Stiles literally feels little sparks of pleasure everytime Derek’s mouth is on his skin.

He moves his hands from Derek’s hair to get some pressure on his dick—which is leaking continuously and so hard it’s almost _painful_.

He’s never been so grateful that the bump doesn’t really allow him to wear his skinny jeans. Easy access to his dick is _awesome_.

Derek slaps his hands away before he can get a chance to do anything, however, and suddenly, before Stiles can figure out what he’s doing, the room is spinning around them.

Stiles realizes embarrassingly late that Derek’s just stood up, taking Stiles with him and is heading to the bedroom. He wraps his arms around Derek’s shoulders and legs around his waist, the bump pressed against Derek’s stomach.

And to be fair, the standing and walking do make it so Stiles’s dick is _finally_ getting some friction as it rubs against Derek’s abs as he walks.

They also make it so Stiles thinks about whether or not Derek could just hold him up fuck him against a wall.

He wonders if he’ll ever get a chance to find out.

It’s not likely, considering the bump.

And when Stiles doesn’t _have_ the bump anymore, it’s not like he’s going to have Derek around to find out.

_Derek_ , who’s got the most perfect muscles known to humankind could probably hold him up and fuck into him _without a wall_.

He tries not to think about it ashis back hits Derek’s bed and Derek sinks down next to him, hands roaming up and down his sides and moving down to cup his ass.

And when Derek sinks a finger into him, nailing his prostate dead on, well.

That’s pretty damn good also.

Stiles kind of loves how, these days, he is usually halfway to being all stretched out because of all the sex they have and already slick because of pregnancy hormones. Derek’s already up to two fingers and Stiles is _so ready for more_.

Derek continues to stretch him torturously slowly, and still touch him _all over_ —lips on his neck and chest and his free hand stroking Stiles’s side.

Stiles, for his part, can really only clutch Derek’s shoulders and hold on. Anything else would require brain functions he doesn’t really have at the moment.

So much so, that when Derek’s finished stretching him, Stiles can barely string any sort of coherent thought together as Derek kisses his way up Stiles’s neck to mouth at his ear and grunt out, “Turn over.”

It takes a couple seconds of Derek staring at him expectantly, and _not touching him_ for Stiles to realize what he’s said and heis quick to comply.

Stiles moves slowly, not even a little self-conscious about Derek watching his every move. He _knows_ now how intune Derek is with him, knows how attracted Derek is to him.

He finally gets settled on his knees and elbows, arms crossed for him to pillow his head on. Derek slides a couple fingers into him, the new position allowing them to reach deeper and Stiles whines, wanting more than just Derek’s _fingers_.

Derek slides into him slowly, as Stiles arches his back, thrusting his hips up to get Derek to move faster. Derek matches him, grinding against him steadily.

They move together, Stiles’s small thrusts meeting Derek’s powerful ones, and Stiles can feel little sparks of pleasure all along his spine and thighs.

Derek curls around him as he continues to moveand rests his hands on Stiles’s belly, stroking the sensitive skin there.

Stiles buries his nose in Derek’s pillow and suddenly all his senses are overloaded—he can taste and smell and feel Derek _everywhere._

When Derek shifts his position and starts nailing Stiles’s prostate on every other thrust, it only takes _seconds_ for Stiles to come, and Derek follows soon after.

Derek wraps his hands around Stiles’s chest and guides him to his side so he doesn’t collapse on to his stomach. Stiles appreciates the effort, because he’s pretty sure he’s been reduced to jelly.

Derek procures a washcloth seemingly out of nowhere, and after a few swipes on Stiles’s belly and groin, he’s quick to curl into bed behind Stiles, nuzzling his nose into Stiles’s neck, and resting his hands lightly over the bump.

* * *

Derek’s been talking to the baby for around five weeks now, and it still scares and thrills him every time.

Sometimes he gets so overcome by the idea that there’s a _human being_ in there—someone that’s constantly growing and developing.

Not to mention, in a few short months, Derek’s going to be solely responsible for said tiny human.

It’s overwhelming.

But also kind of amazing.

Other times, he has a voice in his head—that sounds suspiciously like Erica—telling him that the baby can’t even really make out what he’s saying.

He ignores it. Because to say he took Stiles’s advice to heart about talking to the baby and learning how to communicate better is an understatement.

Stiles is always there too, and it’s about a fifty-fifty chance that he’s actually listening to Derek talk. Most of the times Derek chooses to talk to the baby, it’s when Stiles is about to take a nap. The serenity of the moment somehow makes it easier. And knowing Stiles will be too busy snoring also helps.

Derek talks about whatever comes to mind, feeling more comfortable now that he knows Stiles won’t make fun of him or judge him for whatever it is he’s saying. You know, if he was awake.

He tells the baby stories about his pack, what his life was like when he first came to the city, meeting Kira and finding a safe place in _The Little Fox Cafe_ , how much he loves his work and even the story of how the company’s name came about.

“I’m only telling you this because I know you’ll keep it a secret,” Derek says, stroking his thumb over Stiles’s belly. “The only reason Daddy thought it would be a good idea to name his architecture company Wolf & Mann was because he was _drunk_.”

He presses his lips together, shaking his head at himself.

“I know, people shouldn’t make big decisions when they’re drunk,” Derek says. “Life lesson number one. And while I’m sure at some point, if you’re a wolf like me, your Aunt Erica will tell you about how to safely mix wolfsbane with alcohol so you can get drunk like humans, I want you to be careful. That’s how she, Uncle Boyd, and Uncle Isaac came up with the name for Daddy’s work place. At the time I thought it was a good idea.”

Derek feels a kick against his hand and his lips twitch.

“You agree, huh? It took some convincing from Uncle Boyd to get me to keep the name, but I guess I made a good choice.”

The baby kicks again, making Derek smile. And then freeze when Stiles smacks his lips together and snuffles, mumbling something under his breath before going back to sleep.

“At least this time he didn’t start talking in his sleep,” Derek comments. “I guess you can hear all of that, huh? But I have to say, hearing him mumble about saving the world from the evil carrots was pretty entertaining.”

Derek takes a deep breath, rearranging the pillows he has near Stiles’s stomach so he can get closer.

“Your Aunt Cora, my—,” Derek stops, closing his eyes. “My little sister. She used to do that too. It would drive me crazy when we had to share the same room or sleep close together during family road trips. She used to have entire conversations with whoever she was dreaming about and kept me up all night.” Derek leans closer, resting his forehead against the bump. “I miss her. All of them. I wish you could have met the rest of your family.”

It’s a few seconds before Derek feels another kick, a lot stronger than before, right under his palm. As if the baby understands and wishes he could have met them too.

It’s enough to make Derek feel a little less alone, warmth blooming in his chest.

It’s also enough to rouse Stiles from sleep with a groan, hand coming down on top of Derek’s.

“There you have it,” Stiles says softly, and then smirks a little. “This kid is going to be half me. You gotta be prepared for them to be less than well-behaved.”

“Great,” Derek snorts, appreciating him lightening the mood.

“Just think of it this way, you’re already great at handling your Betas. There’s no way this kid is going to be worse.”

“Unless you just jinxed me,” Derek deadpans.

“We can’t have it all,” Stiles shrugs, smiling.

And no, they can’t.

But Derek can have this.

And that’s what he clings to as the days pass, knowing he’ll be a father soon.

He keeps talking to the baby, stroking Stiles’s belly whenever he can, going shopping for furniture with Erica for the nursery and roping Boyd and Isaac into assembling everything. He loses himself going store to store looking for baby clothes, blankets, and toys.

It’s during one of those times, after he’s left work early and decided to walk around the city, that Derek finds a stuffed elephant that reminds him of the one Cora used to carry around all the time when she was little in a little shop in Soho.

He buys three of them.

Derek knows how kids can be sometimes, so he figures he can save two for backup in case something happens with the first one. Stiles will probably make  a comment about him buying out all ofNew York City’s baby stores, but he doesn’t really care. He only wants what’s best for his child.

Even if his definition of ‘best’ makes him struggle trying to open the door while he holds on to the stuffed elephants at the same time.

From all the noise he’s making, he thinks Stiles would have come open the door by now. Seeing as he hasn’t, it probably means he’s either napping somewhere, has his headphones in, or is deeply focused on what he’s doing.

If Derek were a betting man, he’d bet on the first one.

But it’s a good thing he didn’t, because he’d lose.

Because when he finally manages to get inside, dumping the plushies on the floor by the door before stopping by the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water, Stiles is nowhere to be seen.

Rather, he’s not where he usually is when Derek gets home in time to help him make dinner. And by that Derek means sprawled on the couch watching Netflix, reading, trying to work on his book, or playing videogames with Scott.

Derek tilts his head, searching for the familiar sound of Stiles and the baby’s heartbeats. He can hear Stiles talking in the bedroom, probably on the phone with someone, and Derek thinks that popping in just to let Stiles knows he’s home won’t interrupt his call.

Stiles’s voice gets steadily louder the closer Derek gets to his room and Derek strains to hear another voice. He can’t make out anyone, though.

So, it takes him a few seconds to register the scene in front of him as he stops just outside the open bedroom door.

It’s Stiles, sitting cross-legged on the bed, shirt pulled up to reveal his stomach, and lips curled up in a smile. And he’s talking to someone alright, but not on the phone.

He’s talking to the _baby_ , his hands splayed on either side of the bump as he says, “I don’t know how your Daddy’s going to raise you, but just remember _one thing_. I really need you to listen. Are you listening?”

Stiles pauses, seeming to wait for something.

A _kick_ , just like Derek waits for when he’s the one talking to his son or daughter.

Derek knows Stiles gets it the moment his face breaks into a smile, eyes lighting up.

“Okay, good,” Stiles says, laughing a little. “Now listen. _Star Wars is very important_. Make sure that’s something that happens in your life, okay kiddo? Make that my gift to you. That my legacy for carrying you around for nine months will be leaving you with the wonders that is a galaxy far, far away.”

Derek almost chokes on a laugh, having to bring a hand up to cover his mouth so he doesn’t make any noise.

And he listens to Stiles tell his kid about all the reasons why the original trilogy of _Star Wars_ are some of the best movies ever made; explaining just how cool Han Solo is and telling the baby about the Halloween he convinced Scott to dress up as the Chewbacca to his Han.

And Derek’s chest goes tight at knowing Stiles does that.

At knowing Stiles talks to the little baby growing inside of him and that in the end Stiles won’t get to keep him.

Because that’s not what this is.

That’s not what they’re doing.

Right?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update: **September 5th, around 5pm EST.**


	13. Darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek’s finally going to find out if the baby Stiles is carrying is a boy or a girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So we thought we should warn you that from the end of this chapter and forward, things get a bit angsty. But don’t worry! The fluff will be back in a few chapters, and we promise you all a happy ending.
> 
> Also, we don’t know if you guys noticed, but we have a chapter count!! There will be 18 chapters + an epilogue (19 total chapters). 
> 
> Last but not least, we just wanted to remind you that Derek’s hometown (the Hale pack territory) is Lake Tahoe, not Beacon Hills. Stiles and Derek did not grow up in the same town in this story. 
> 
> Chapter title from [Can’t Help Falling In Love (Elvis Presley)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5V430M59Yn8). And as usual, here’s the [Settle Down 'Verse Breakdown](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/sdch) in case you need it.
> 
> xoxo,  
> J & P

Derek and Stiles are at the doctor’s office for their second ultrasound appointment, and Derek thinks his heart is about to beat out of his chest.

Because this is it.

It’s time.

It’s their twenty second week appointment and he’s finally going to find out if the baby Stiles is carrying is a boy or a girl.

He is finally going to know if he’s having a daughter or a son.

He knows Stiles can tell how nervous he is by the way Stiles keeps tracing his thumb over Derek’s knuckles, their entwined hands resting by Stiles’s side on the exam table.

They’re already prepared for Dr. Deaton to come in—Stiles has got his shirt pulled up and his bump is in full view.

Deaton doesn’t keep them waiting long, however, and enters after a brief knock on the door, rolling the ultrasound machine in front of him and coming to a stop at the side of Stiles’s exam table.

Derek’s palms get clammy all of a sudden, and he knows that by the way Stiles glances at him, he can tell. Stiles still doesn’t let go of his hand though, something Derek’s grateful for.

He doesn’t know why he’s this nervous. It’s not like knowing whether he’s having a son or a daughter is going to change anything. He already loves this child more than anything in the world.

Derek isn’t sure if Deaton is setting up the equipment extra slowly today or _what_ , but Derek feels like he’s going to crawl out of his skin in anticipation while everything’s being set up.

He _feels_ more than see Stiles’s flinch when the cold ultrasound jelly hits his belly, and he covers Stiles’s hand with both of his, rubbing circles on Stiles’s palm reassuringly. Deaton brings the ultrasound wand up and starts pressing against the bump, moving the jelly around and seemingly searching for the best view.

Stiles smiles up at him, eyes bright and excited. “I’m so exited to see your little moonbeam again. It’s been too long.”

“Not so much of a moonbeam anymore,” Deaton cuts in then, pointing to the screen. “Here’s your baby.”

Derek stares.

The baby, _his baby_ , actually _looks like something now_. It looks like a tiny human instead of just a splotch on the screen and Derek can’t really believe his eyes at the moment.

He can make out the baby’s head, torso, and one of his little arms. Derek’s pretty sure his baby is _sucking his thumb_ and Derek wants to hold him right then so desperately that his breath catches.

Stiles squeezes his hand but when Derek turns to look at him, his gaze is locked on the screen in front of them.

“He looks perfect,” Stiles says finally, awe in his voice exactly how Derek feels.

“Yeah,” Derek breathes out, chest tight. “He really does.”

He’s more than Derek could ever hope for, even now, even as he’s still growing inside of Stiles, being nurtured and protected by him.

“You’re hoping for a boy?” Dr. Deaton asks, smiling a little.

Derek shakes his head and can’t help but sneak a fond glance at Stiles. “I don’t care either way. We only call him a ‘he’ because Stiles said he _has a feeling_.”

“I’ll have you know I’m _great_ at feelings,” Stiles sniffs. “The last time I had a feeling it was about one of Allison’s co-workers and it turned out he was stalking her.”

Derek blinks. “I’m not arguing with you.”

“Good.”

“Does that mean you want to know if your suspicions are correct?” Deaton interrupts them.

Derek snaps his head back at Deaton and the screen then, taking in Deaton’s amused smile and manages to speak only after thirty seconds have passed. “You know?” He says finally, his voice coming out a lot softer than he’d anticipated.

Deaton nods. “Just wrote it down in the chart. Just know that this has about a 98% accuracy, so you may still get a surprise after the birth.”

Derek whips his head back to Stiles who, despite looking at him with poorly contained excitement, just shrugs. “This is all your decision man.”

And holy shit.

_Yes,_ Derek wants to know the sex of the little person that’s going to be _his child_.

And he just _knows_ that Erica’s going to want to start shopping as soon as she hears. And as daunting as that prospect is, he can’t pass it up now that the opportunity has presented itself.

“I want to know,” Derek says firmly, startling when Stiles lets out a cheer.

“What?” Stiles grins sheepishly. “I was hoping you’d say that. I kind of want to know for sure, too.”

Derek can’t help but let out a chuckle at that, taking in the way Stiles looks like a little kid on Christmas, hands clasped together and eyes wide and excited.

It’s pretty adorable.

A trait he’s hoping his kid gets.

“Well, then, if you’re sure,” Deaton starts, and Derek just looks at him and tips his head down in a nod. “It’s a boy.”

“Ha!” Stiles yells. “I told you so!”

Derek doesn’t care.

He’s too busy smiling. Because he’s having a _son_.

* * *

They have celebratory sex the entire week after finding out it’s a boy.

Not that they wouldn’t have done the same thing had it been a girl.

It’s more like having ‘yay we now know the sex of the baby’ sex.

And it starts basically as soon as they’re back at the apartment.

You know, after getting printed copies of the ultrasound picture from Deaton and Derek handing them out to the Betas, preening when he informs them their new packmate is going to be a boy.

It’s the first time Stiles sees Boyd grin, teeth showing and lips curled up at the ends. He pulls Derek into a hug and pats him forcefully on the back, Isaac following soon after and also smiling. Erica’s eyes are wet with tears as she hugs the both of them at the same time, but she’s beaming.

Stiles lets them all hug him and touch his bump and whisper words of welcome to the baby boy, laughing when they receive kicks in answer.

Erica, after a while, somehow finds Derek’s laptop where he’s saved a bunch of baby clothing sites and is quick to bring up all the ones with baby boy items and mark her favorites.

Stiles hands her his TV cable, and before long, the five of them are all looking at clothes, toys, and various baby paraphernalia on Derek’s big screen TV.  

It doesn’t take long after _that_ for Derek to hand Erica his credit card and she promptly goes from marking her favorites to actually ordering them.

All of them.

They probably spend over an hour that way—browsing various websites and chatting over the items, Derek’s betas all curled around Stiles in one way or another with a hand near his bump.

And after they leave, he lets Derek do much of the same thing.

The same thing that, where Derek is concerned, leads to other _things_.

Other things being what Stiles now calls the Celebratory Sex Week.

They have so much sex that Stiles starts thinking about how he won’t have to jerk off for a while because Derek made him come so many times already.

It’s like finding out he’s having a son makes Derek want to try and get Stiles pregnant all over again. It kind of gives Stiles a glimpse into what heat week must have been for them, making him wish he remembered more of what happened.

You know, if the sex was as hot as the sex they’ve been having since seeing Dr. Deaton.

Stiles thinks not.

Because the sex they’ve been having is _out of this world_.

Stiles thinks—no, he _knows_ he’s never had better sex in his life. Sometimes Stiles wonders if Derek has Incubus blood somewhere on his bloodline; he’s _that good_.

Especially because it doesn’t take much on Derek’s part to get Stiles all hot and bothered.

Like right now, Derek’s working out in the middle of the living room, skin shiny with sweat and biceps bulging as he finishes his push-up set.

Stiles is literally just standing there, watching him go up and down, watching his arms flex and the muscles move under Derek’s perfect tan skin. His eyes linger down to watch Derek’s ass where it’s rising and falling in a perfect line, and _man_ that shit is better than porn.

Stiles would know. He has seen a lot of porn in his life.

And he knows Derek must be able to smell the change in his scent, his arousal, if judging by the way he pauses and looks up in the middle of his post workout stretches.

He raises an eyebrow, giving Stiles a look as if to say _Really_?

Stiles shrugs, and swings himself down into Derek’s favoritearmchair, sprawling out comfortably. It’s not his fault he finds Derek hot like hell, even when he’s all sweaty.

_Especially_ when he’s all sweaty.

Stiles licks his lips, slowly giving Derek a once over. He shifts in his seat, legs falling open and his shirt stretching tightly over his stomach.

It doesn’t take more than that before Derek’s sauntering _slowly_ over to him with a smirk, pulling his white tank over his head and throwing it off to the side.

Stiles moans at the sight of Derek’s abs, light glinting against the sweat there, making them look downright edible.

Derek’s still too far though, so Stiles pulls his sweats and underwear down himself, hooking them under his balls, and grabs his cock in his hand, stroking tight and fast, already rock hard from Derek’s little display. He brings his other hand to his puffy nipples, alternating between pinching and rubbing them teasingly through his shirt.

It takes less than a second for Derek to be on him, getting on his knees in front of Stiles and sucking the tip of Stiles’s dick into his mouth and covering Stiles’s hand with his own.

Stiles promptly moves his hands to Derek’s skin, fingers digging into Derek’s biceps which are sweaty, yes, but that’s _totally_ working for him.

Derek’s just lightly tongueing at his slit as he strokes Stiles hard and fast, his other hand moving up Stiles’s thigh to his sides and then back down over and over again.

Derek moves his mouth away just before Stiles comes and gets it all over his hand and some catches on his chest, stroking Stiles’s until he’s oversensitive and then tucking him back into his sweats.

Derek then sits back with his heels on his knees, pulling his dick out with one hand whilehis other gathers all of Stiles’s come from his skin and _fuck_ , that’s hot.

If it were possible for Stiles to be hard again that quickly, he absolutely would be.

His dick makes a valiant effort though, when Derek starts jerking himself off using Stiles’s come to slick the way.

Stiles watches him, eyes heavy and mouth slack, heart thudding in his chest, because Derek looks fucking _amazing_ like this. And to know _Stiles_ is the one doing this to Derek? It makes everything _hotter_.

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek groans, almost pleading, working his hand faster.

“Yeah,” Stiles murmurs, reaching out a hand and tangling his fingers through Derek’s hair. “C’mon, Derek. Do it. Come for me.”

The words are barely past Stiles’s lips before Derek’s entire body is tensing and he’s coming, spilling over his hand and onto the floor. He slumps forward after he’s done, resting his forehead against Stiles’s knee and shaking a little.

Stiles pets him, sliding his fingers through Derek’s hair as he catches his breath.

And then he smirks when Derek finally looks up, and points a finger to the floor.

“You know that’s going to be a bitch to clean up, right?”

* * *

When Derek thought about Erica going crazy buying baby clothes as soon they found out the baby was a boy, he never thought he’d actually join in.

All the shopping he had been doing before seems like _nothing_ compared to the amount of shopping he’s doing now. He’s actually, for the first time ever, _dreading_ his credit card bill. Even if he can afford all of it, and it’s definitely for a good reason, it’s probably still going to be a bit of a shock.

Not to mention theamount of times he comes home after work with a bag filled with baby clothes and tiny shoes and other baby things is actually starting to worry him. His apartment is big for New York City standards, but it still isn’t _that_ big. He’s going to run out of places to put everything soon.

Stiles doesn’t seem to mind, though, watching Derek, Erica, Isaac, and Boyd go through everything with warmth in his eyes, his hand resting on top of his stomach.

The Betas have been stopping by his apartment more frequently, and Derek knows how much fun they have helping him with the nursery and cooing over baby things.

“Ugh, these are _so cute_ ,” Erica practically squeals, looking down at a pair of miniscule black Converse. “How is that even possible?”

“This baby is going to be the best dressed baby in New York,” Isaac says, folding a pair of tiny blue slacks. “You should be proud.”

“I am,” Derek says gruffly, cheeks turning slightly pink.

“Proud daddy Derek,” Erica grins, clapping her hands. “That’s something I never thought I’d see.”

“It’s a good look, though, isn’t it?” Stiles asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I’ll say,” Erica winks at him.

“It’s good you’re buying all of this,” Boyd says, gesturing at the piles of clothing. “It means that when Erica and I have a baby, we don’t have to go shopping.”

Derek raises an eyebrow at that. He remembers them saying something about wanting kids the day they met Stiles’s pack, he just didn’t know they were seriously considering it.

“Is that gonna be happening anytime soon?” Isaac turns to them. “Should I start clearing my schedule so I can babysit?”

“Like I’d ever leave my child with you,” Erica sniffs. “You’d have them treating small animals like friends and not _prey_.”

“How dare I,” Isaac gasps.

“But is it?” Derek interrupts, looking from Erica to Boyd. “Going to happen soon?”

“Maybe in a couple of years,” Boyd shrugs. “We’re gonna see how it goes with yours first.”

“It’s gonna go wonderful,” Stiles tells him, patting his stomach. “This baby is half me and I’m awesome, after all.”

Derek shakes his head, lips curling up. He doesn’t say it, but he agrees with Stiles. A child that’s half him would be nothing less than that.

A couple days later, after a particularly trying day at work, Derek comes home to Stiles snoring lightly on the couch and a slim package laying on the dining table. This sight has been a common one over the last few weeks, and Derek pinches his brow for a moment, wondering just how many things Erica had managed to buy.

When he opens the package to see a pale blue onesie with a black wolf on it, though, his heart nearly stops for a moment.

It looks just like his _mom_.

The wolf is sitting back on its haunches, head raised in a howl and Derek can’t think about anything except his _mom_ and his _dad_ and his old pack.

And it’s been so _long_ since he’s let himself _really_ think about them, even longer since he’s _talked_ about them, that it’s almost crippling.

His Betas know a little about what happened, about as much as Derek’s managed to share without losing himself in the grief of losing his entire pack. But he never really talked about any of them, and right now he finds himself wanting to.

He knows he’ll have to share stories about his family and pack with the baby, since Derek wants him to know who his family was even if he’s never going to meet them. So maybe he should start practicing now?

He changes quickly and makes his way over to where Stiles is sprawled out on the couch, still asleep, and sits on the floor in front of the bump, legs stretched out in front of him.

He leans his head back so it’s pillowed lightly against the bump, not looking at it but still  feeling random little movements every time Stiles shifts. It’s comforting, sitting there and being calmed by both his little boy’s and Stiles’s heart beat.

“Hey there champ,”Derek starts, choking a little on the nickname his dad used to call him. “I hope you were good for Stiles while I was at work today. You know he doesn’t like the kicking as much as I do, so save that for when I’m here okay?”

Stiles shuffles, almost like he knows what Derek’s saying and is making his displeasure known.

Derek takes a quick peek at him to check that he is, in fact, asleep before continuing. “Something your Auntie Erica must’ve ordered came by today. It made me think of your Grandma Talia. She was the best Alpha in the western United States, but she was an even better mother. She helped me and your Auntie Cora and Auntie Laura through all our problems, from crushes at school to controlling our shift on the full moon.” Derek shuts his eyes for a second thinking back.

“Your Grandma Talia was a very special werewolf, you know. She was the first Hale in many generations to be able to shift fully into a wolf,” he murmurs softly, thinking back to full moons as a kid. “She would shift during a very special part of the month, and all us kids would try to keep up with her. She could run so fast, it was beautiful.”

He feels a kick just behind his ear and can’t help but smile even as his eyes well up with tears.

It’s like his son is comforting him.

“I’m not as special as she is, though. The only one that ever came close, was your Auntie Laura. She wasmy older sister and she was supposed to be the alpha after Grandma Talia. She was our ‘fierce warrior’, always getting into fights at school, beating up the bullies and embarrassing all the boys who challenged her to arm wrestling fights. One time, she got grounded for two whole months because she forgot her strength and actually dislocated one little boy’s shoulder.”

Living with her those two months had been _awful_. She hadn’t been allowed to leave the house except for school and it made her downright _vicious_. She learned her lesson, though, when their cousin Miguel fell off a tree during play time and broke his wrist. He was human, and seeing him hurt that much made Laura swear to never forget her strength again.

“Now your Auntie Cora was just as naughty but a lot sneakier. She was the one who would use her speed and hearing to her advantage to grab cookies from the cookie jar and run away and hide before she could get into trouble. Grandma Talia would be so furious but no one could ever prove it was Cora. She was the baby though, the cute one. We let her get away with far too much.”

Derek smiles again, this time a barely twitch of lips. His sisters used to drive him crazy growing up, but now he’d do anything he could to have them back.

“I don’t know how our parents did it. Laura was always breaking something or getting into trouble, Cora was always sneaking around and hiding in increasingly creative spots and I was constantly getting into my dad’s library and messing up his books. I used to pile them by color instead of alphabetically and that used to bother him so much. We were the Alpha House, so pack members were constantly visiting, humans and werewolves constantly running all over the place.”

Derek stops for a second, realizing something he had never thought of before. Or he did, but he doesn’t think he’s ever spoken out loud to the baby. “I don’t know if you’re going to be human or a ‘wolf, lil guy, but either way is okay, because the strongest man I have ever known was my daddy, and he was human.”

* * *

Stiles wakes up to a voice.

Or rather, Derek’s voice.

But he doesn’t sound fond and soft like he always does when talking to the baby. Instead his tone is weavering, cracking, a little choked up like saying whatever he is saying is taking a lot from him.

Stiles has never heard him sound like this, and he’s instantly worried. But just as he’s about to move and tell Derek he’s awake and ask him what’s wrong, he hears Derek mention his father.

He freezes, trying to calm his breathing and heart so he doesn’t give himself away. He figures Derek might be distracted enough not to hear him, but he doesn’t want to risk it. He’s never heard Derek speak openly about his family, not like he’s doing right now.

So Stiles stays quiet, and listens.

“My dad was a human omega, you know, just like Stiles is. And that only ever made him even braver and stronger to me. Again, just like Stiles. I hope you get that little piece of them when you’re born.”

Stiles swallows, heart at his throat.

“Your Grandpa was calmer than your Grandma, steadier. I might look a lot like Grandma Talia, but everyone used to say I acted just like my dad. I remember dressing up in his clothes when I was little, his leather jacket that was comically large on me, and go to our home library. I’d grab some books and one of his notepads and my colored pencils, and I’d spend the entire afternoon pretending to be him. I remember your Auntie Laura would come and find me so we could play and I’d tell her I couldn’t because I was working.”

Stiles hears Derek let out a choked laugh, his own memories of him dressing up in his dad’s deputy jacket and pretending to be a police officer running through his head.

“I miss them,” Derek says, so low and broken it makes Stiles’s eyes fill with tears. “So much. It’s been years and it still hurts.”

Stiles bites down on the inside of his cheek, now thinking of his mom.

Losing her was one of the hardest things he’s even been through, so he can’t even imagine what it must be like for Derek.

“There was a fire,” Derek whispers, and Stiles’s heart almost stops. “During one of our pack events, some hunters made a mountain ash barrier around our house so none of the ‘wolves could get out, and set the entire thing on fire. There were eleven people in the house, and only one person got out.” Derek’s voice pauses, and when he speaks again, its in the thinnest, most _broken_ voice Stiles has ever heard. “It was all my fault, cub. I’m the reason the hunters knew where to go, how to get in, and what our weaknesses were. I told _her_ everything.”

Stiles wants to stop Derek and comfort him, tell him he doesn’t believe Derek would ever be responsible for his family’s death, but it sounds like Derek needs to get this out.

“I was stupid and young and I thought I was _in love_ ,” Derek spits out, all anger. “She was older, beautiful, _wild_. And she was interested. You’ll see, bud, when you grow up, the lengths you’re willing to go through for your first love. It didn’t even occur to me I couldn’t trust her, not when it seemed like she loved me just as much as I loved her. Because why would you want to hurt someone you loved? Why would you want to steal their secrets and use them against them and burn their entire family to death?”

Stiles can feels tears sliding down his face, even with his eyes closed.

He wants to reach out, to tell Derek it wasn’t his fault, that being used and betrayed by someone he loved doesn’t make him responsible.

“My Uncle Peter was the only one who got out,” Derek keeps going. “Laura and I weren’t even home when it happened. Mom sent us out to buy more ice because we were almost out. We could smell the smoke from miles away. When we got to the house there was— There was nothing left. Peter was badly burned, and even him being a werewolf wasn’t enough to help him heal, not fast enough.”

Stiles’s hands curl into fists. No one should have to go through that.

“I remember Laura’s screams when her eyes flashed red for the first time,” Derek says. “That wasn’t how she was supposed to become Alpha. It was supposed to be years from then, when your Grandma was ready to step down. There was supposed be a ceremony, and the whole family would be there to watch as mom passed down her powers to Laura. But that didn’t happen. None of that happened.”

The heartbreak on Derek’s voice make Stiles want to sob, and digging his fingers into the couch cushions is all he can do not to touch him.

“Peter wasn’t the same, after the fire,” Derek clears his throat. “The fire, it— It took something away from him. Being there when it happened— He didn’t come back the same. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. Because if that’s true, then it means it wasn’t really the Uncle Peter I grew up with that killed my sister.”

Stiles opens his eyes then.

He can’t help it.

He’s too _shocked_ not to.

But Derek’s not looking at him, eyes fixed somewhere far away.

“He wanted her powers,” Derek whispers. “He wanted her powers so he could get revenge. And he did. He killed every single person that had anything to do with what happened to our family. He— He _killed her_ , and he also died for it.”

Stiles is still crying silently, hurting for Derek and the despair and grief he can hear bleeding out of him as he speaks.

“Her name was Kate,” Derek gulps. “Kate Argent.”

Stiles freezes, lip popping out from between his teeth and eyes opening wide. He _knows_ that name. That’s Allison’s crazy aunt—the one that died in some sort of werewolf accident.

Or at least, that’s what Allison had been told.

How could he have ever known that the real story was that his baby daddy’s feral uncle had _killed_ her after she burned his family alive?

But Derek and Allison’s reactions when they met at Stiles’s apartment before heat week now finally makes sense.

Stiles kind of wished it didn’t.

“She managed to shoot him before he killed her,” Derek says, lowering his head. “Wolfsbane bullet. It was too close to his heart for me to do anything about it. Not that he wanted me to. He actually _asked me_ not to do anything, to let him go. So I did. I let him go and became Alpha instead. And I’m so sorry for it. So so sorry. It was never supposed to happen like this. Never. I wasn’t meant to— I’m sorry. I’m so sorr—”

And Stiles—

Stiles can’t take it anymore.

He shifts to his side then, bringing both his face and the bump closer to where Derek’s sitting and threads his hand through Derek’s hair.

When Derek turns to look at look over at him, his heart clenches _again_ at the raw pain and vulnerability in Derek’s eyes.Stiles scoot his legs up so they’re crossed and tugs Derek up off the floor and onto the couch next to him. As soon as Derek’s situated he grabs Derek’s wrists so that his palms are resting on Stiles’s belly.

Derek seems surprised, like he didn’t expect Stiles to be awake for any of that. Which, fair. But he doesn’t pull away and Stiles can’t pretend he didn’t hear any of this.

“Derek,” Stiles whispers, fresh tears running down his face. “It was not your fault. I’m so sorry that happened to you, but it was not your fault. It wasn’t. I don’t think that and the baby isn’t going to think that. He’s going to be so proud of his daddy for _surviving_ all of this, for still being here and standing. He’s going to love you _so much_ and he’s going to be grateful everyday to have you in his life, to be part of your new family.”

Derek doesn’t say anything as he scoots closer to Stiles on the couch, slumping down so his head is on Stiles’s shoulder and only a few inches away from the bump. Stiles moves his hand back to Derek’s hair and combs through it gently.

He keeps muttering apologizes and soothing words, pressing kisses to the top of Derek’s head when Derek starts shaking. He can feel Derek’s tears through his shirt, and that only makes him hold Derek closer, tighter.

He turns the television on to the channel that always seems to be playing Buffy reruns and puts it on softly, rearranging them so they’re lying on the couch and letting the faint sounds of the television lull Derek to sleep.

He has a feeling though, given the way Derek’s ear ends up right above his heart and his hand rests off to one side of his belly, that what’s actually soothing him is Stiles and the baby’s heartbeats.

And that’s something Stiles thinks would be cute if he wasn’t feeling so utterly broken right now.

He shakes Derek awake after a couple of hours only so they can move to the bedroom and Stiles can go pee. He also tries to make Derek eat and drink something while he’s at it, knowing he’ll feel a little bit better with a full stomach.

It seems to work, because Derek doesn’t look as bad as he did once they go back to bed. He’s still quiet as they settle down, though. And if he clings a little harder to Stiles as he falls back asleep, well, Stiles doesn’t mind.

Stiles wakes up early the next morning, andafter leaving Derek sleep in his bed he shoots a few texts to both his pack members and Derek’s betas. He figures that it might be a good idea for _both_ of them to spend the day surrounded by pack.

It wasn’t easy for him to hear everything Derek had to say yesterday, so he can’t imagine what it must have been like for Derek to talk about it. Having their packs around will do a lot to help them both deal with all the feelings hearing about Derek’s family brought up.

He makes sure to include in the text that they didn’t have the best of nights—and not because of anything baby related. Giving them a heads up about it will _hopefully_ have them on their best behavior.

Although, that’s never a given with their packs. Especially when they’re all together.It’s amazing how they managed to go from twenty something professionals to _infants_ within minutes of coming in contact.

At least the baby will feel right at home.

They all text him back saying they’ll stop by for lunch and bring along food, Stiles reminding them he still can’t manage to look at anything resembling an avocado without feeling sick. He had guacamole with chips one day as a snack and the baby _did not_ like it. Let’s just say Derek’s shoes were never the same after that.

He settles in the living room, claiming his spot on the couch as he starts his laptop and opens up a blank document. His mind is reeling after last night, and words just flow out.

He’s not entirely sure what he’s writing—since he started all of this he already wrote and re-wrote and started writing something completely new so many times he can’t count—but there are characters and something resembling a plot and so he keeps typing, figuring that he (or Lydia) can read it over later and make any necessary changes.

He spends half the morning like this, stopping only for a bathroom break and then, when he deems it late enough, he decides to wake Derek up before their packs arrive.

He heads to the bedroom to find Derek sprawled on his stomach, occupying the space Stiles left empty, his face smashed against Stiles’s pillow. It makes him smile a little, just a twitch of lips, at knowing Derek chases his scent even in his sleep.

He walks to the bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress by Derek’s side and swiping Derek’s hair back from his forehead, and says, “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

* * *

Derek wakes up slowly, a comfortable weight by his side and fingers running through his hair, scratching lightly as they reach the nape of his neck.

It feels so good that he just lays there a moment, reveling in the feeling and honing his senses on Stiles’s scent and strong heartbeat.

It’s not a bad way to wake up.

And that surprises him a little, especially after last night. He expected to wake up feeling like shit, not well rested and comfortable.

And yes, he still feels an ache in his chest and deep sense of loss, but with Stiles there, murmuring random words to him, it’s easy to let some of that go and concentrate on Stiles instead.

Especially when Stiles huffs out a breath somewhere by Derek’s temple, and starts talking a little bit louder, “Better get up, Der, the pack’s on their way and they're bringing _food_. You gotta get up, because you _know_ there’s no leftovers when our friends get together.”

It’s not enough for Derek to laugh, but he does feel his lips tugging up at the corners. He likes it that their packs have been friends long enough for that to be something they know and have to worry about.

He turns to the side and opens his eyes, looking up at Stiles who’s grinning cheekily down at him. His hair is a _mess_ and there are pen marks on his cheeks like he’d been biting on one and it surprises Derek how much he wants to reach up a steal a kiss.

They’ve only ever kissed during sex though, and he’s not really sure how Stiles would react to that. But he suddenly _wants_ , and it takes all of his strength not to reach out and pull him down into a kiss.

Especially when Stiles’s entire expression softens and he stops running his fingers through Derek’s hair so he can cup Derek’s cheek with a hand.

“How are you doing?” Stiles asks quietly, thumb tracing the stubble on Derek’s jaw. “Last night was hard for you.”

Derek gulps, letting himself lean into Stiles’s touch.

The truth is, he’s not okay. But he’s not _nearly_ as bad as he thought he would be after it all came out.

Talking about his family’s death is not something he does, nor is admitting to how guilty he feels about it. But there’s just something about Stiles, about how comfortable he always makes Derek feel when talking to the baby and learning how to communicate, that somehow made it easier.

He feels lighter for the first time in his life since the fire happened, even after all the pain and grief came pouring out of him last night. Maybe _because_ of that. He finally allowed himself to let it all out, without fear of being judged or being found guilty.

He looks up at Stiles again, and either he moved or Stiles shifted closer, because all he can see now are Stiles’s bright brown eyes and they look so _concerned_ for him that he has to clench his fists at his side before he does something stupid.

Like give in and kiss him anyway.

“I’m okay,” he says finally, proud of the lack of wavering in his voice. “I haven’t really talked to anyone about it in one go like that. It was good for me, I think.”

Stiles nods, hand stroking down Derek’s neck and then across his shoulder and down his arm before he links their fingers together and squeezes. He’s still looking right at Derek, his eyes bright and warm and intense, and Derek can’t bring himself to look away. “I’m glad you opened upabout your past. If you ever need to talk about it again...,” he trails off.

Derek finishes his sentence, “I’ll let you know.”

Stiles nods once and squeezes his hand again, before letting go and standing up. “You have enough time to shower before our packs get here.” His expression turns mischievous then, and his eyes glint. “If you get up _now_ , you’ll get a bonus Stiles in your shower!”

Derek blinks.

And then gets up, because it’s not like he can miss _that_ opportunity.

He appreciates Stiles calling their packs over for lunch, something Stiles tells him as they towel off, saying he did so because he thought they both needed them around after last night.

Derek can feel his insides melting at that, and this time he _can’t_ help himself when he hooks his towel around Stiles’s neck and reels him in, pressing their lips together.

Stiles makes a soft sound in the back of his throat but kisses him back, his cheeks flushed and lips red and shiny when Derek pulls back.

“Thank you,” Derek says, clearing his throat. “For calling them. It’s— It’ll definitely help.”

“Sure,” Stiles whispers, something flashing across his eyes that’s gone too fast for Derek to make sense of. “No problem, big guy.”

They get dressed quickly, and make their way over to the couch, Derek grabbing some paper plates and napkins on the way.

Stiles, of course, sprawls out immediately and finds a channel playing _Friends_ reruns, and Derek wastes no time slotting himself next to Stiles and resting his hands on the bump.

And that’s how Erica and Lydia find them twenty minutes later—Erica having let Lydia in and informing them that Boyd is coming up with the food.

Erica, for her part, seems to be carrying a _large_ bag filled with baby items—something she and Lydia go through right away. She doesn’t bother waiting for Derek’s opinion though, and just takes everything to the room that will soon enough be the nursery.

Boyd walks in then holding what looks like eight pizza boxes, chatting with Jackson who’s carrying Dawn. Jackson is also carrying a stuffed bunny with a green bow on its head, and he waves it at Derek when he catches Derek looking.Given how it doesn’t look like it’s been chewed up like most of Dawn’s toys, he wonders if it’s meant to be a gift.

“Dawn has one,” Jackson explains. “She loves it. Figured your kid could learn to love it too.”

“If he doesn’t, he can just pretend it’s prey and chase it around the house,” Erica pipes up, cackling when Derek glares at her.

Isaac comes in ws soon after, with Scott and Kira trailing behind.

Kira smiles and waves when she sees him, but the look on her face is shy and hesitant when she comes up to him, fingers curled around a wooden box.

“This is from my mom,” Kira says, handing Derek the box. “She said it was something left behind by one of yours decades and decades ago and she thought you should have it back. Whatever that means.”

Derek frowns, confused, and places the box on his lap.

He can feel Stiles press harder against his side, peering over Derek’s arm and down at the box.

“Do you know what it could be?”

Derek shakes his head. “I know Mrs. Yukimura used to know my family. Generations and generations of them. This could be anything.”

“Is it for the baby?” Stiles looks up at Kira, who nods. “That means it’s probably not a sword. Or books. Or someone’s fingernails.”

“Dude,” Scott says, nose wrinkled in disgust. “Why would she send Derek someone else’s _fingernails_. That’s gross.”

Stiles shrugs. “You never know. You supernatural creatures can be weird.”

“Hey,” Scott, Jackson, Erica, Isaac, Boyd, Kira, and Derek protest.

Lydia just raises an eyebrow at him.

“Are you going to open it?” Isaac asks, kicking Derek’s foot with his own.

Derek glances down at the box again, tracing his fingers over the edges of it. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to find when he opens it, but a soft light yellow blanket with a triskele embroidered on one corner of it isn’t it.

Derek can’t help but think of his mom then, of her holding baby Cora in a blanket _exactly_ like this one. He looks up at Kira in awe, not sure of how he can convey what he’s feeling right now.

“This is, this is _perfect_ , Kira. Thank you.” He chokes out finally, even though it’s not enough.

Kira just nods like she gets it though, and kisses him on the cheek before curling up next to Scott on the armchair.

Derek touches the blanket one time before closing the box and placing it on the coffee table. Stiles instantly curls into him once he’s leaning back against the couch again, grabbing one of Derek’s hands and placing it on the bump again.

Derek gives him a grateful look, still feeling a bit choked up from Kira’s gift.

“And where is _your gift_ , Oh Alpha, My Alpha?” Stiles grins at Scott, taking everyone’s attention off of Derek.

Erica hoots out a laugh at the nickname, and Derek remembers that she called him that once too. Derek isn’t sure if Stiles taught her that, or the other way around, but he thinks (for what feels like like the millionth time) that Erica and Stiles spend _too much_ time together.

It’s dangerous for the rest of them.

Scott just rolls his eyes and pulls an envelope out of his back pocket, tossing it over to Derek and Stiles wordlessly.

Stiles opens it eagerly and pulls out a letter, which he hands to Derek, and a picture of something which he stares at intently, eyes wide and surprised.

Derek skims the letter from Wolf Haven International and it turns out that Scott adopted a wolf in Baby Boy Hale’s name and that the sanctuary’s latest addition, a gray wolf named Poseidon is now theirs.

He passes it to Stiles when he’s done reading it, exchanging it for the picture of a[ gray wolf pup](http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/.a/6a00d8341c630a53ef0133f1ff4eff970b-600wi) that Stiles had been cooing at.  

He looks up at Scott, conveying a silent _thank you_ through his eyes and is pleased to see that Scott gets it right away. He knows having a real wolf cub around will be good, giving the baby something tangible to relate to the werewolf side of himself. Not to say werewolves are actual wolves, but still.

After they exchange a quick nod of acknowledgement, Derek grabs both the letter and picture to put aside somewhere and revels in the fact that Stiles’s pack is so wholeheartedly accepting of him.

Stiles looks awed when he finishes reading the letter and looks up at Scott, eyes wide and elated. “Dude. This is awesome.”

Scott just shrugs, though he can’t hide the fact that he’s grinning. “It was either that or a year’s supply of red bull.” He turns to Derek with a slightly horrified look on his face. “You’re probably going to need that anyways. I hear babies don’t ever sleep when they’re supposed to.”

Derek’s heard that too.

Right now, he can’t bring himself to mind.

Stiles just punches Scott on the shoulder affectionately and turns his expectant gaze to Lydia.

“You realize it’s rude to _ask_ for presents, right?” she asks, wrinkling her nose in Stiles’s direction.

Stiles scoffs and makes a face right back at her. “It’s not rude if I’m not asking for presents for _myself_. These are for the baby!”

Lydia rolls her eyes and rifles through her purse until she finds a crisp white envelope and hands it to Derek. “Thats too bad, then, because I don’t have anything for the baby. What I got you both is signed up for Lamaze classes. All the information about the class is right there.”

Stiles takes the envelope from her, eyes shining with excitement as he skims through the information.

“Whaddaya think, Daddy Hale? Wanna be my birthing coach?” Stiles says finally, with so much excitement and enthusiasm that he’s practically bouncing in his seat.

And, well.

How’s Derek supposed to say no to that?

It’s all in the baby’s interest after all.

* * *

Stiles doesn’t really know what he was expecting from it, but to have a human of beta orientation who yelled at them a lot more than anything else teaching the Lamaze class wasn’t it.

The guy introduces himself as Bobby Finstock on the first day, but threatens them all that he is to be called “Coach” and nothing else. The one person who tries calling him Mr. Finstock gets a look filled with so much hatred directed towards them that Stiles thought they would fall down dead right there and then.

He yells at them enthusiastically for nearly forty minutes straight, and ends up quoting _Braveheart, Independence Day_ and _Lilo & Stitch _ in the process.

Stiles and Derek spend that time looking around incredulously, slightly reassured when everyone else in their class seems to be as taken aback as they are.

Coach finishes his speech by talking about the importance of ‘Ohana’—which included the phrases ‘ohana means family’ and ‘family means no one gets left behind even if the sight of blood and goo makes you want to faint’ and ‘you cannot leave your partners behind to birth a baby alone no matter the circumstances’.

Stiles finds himself feeling strangely comforted and disturbed at the same time.

He supposes that that’s part of “Coach”’s charm. After all, Lydia wouldn’t have signed them up for this particular class if it hadn’t been the best. Even if ‘the best’ yells more than talks and makes a ridiculous amount of movie references.

Stiles can’t help but giggle like a child as Coach launches into a new speech as though he’s gotten a second wind, hiding the noises in Derek’s shoulder when Coach breaks out in a surprisingly decent solo rendition of “We’re All In This Together”.

It only gets better when he starts talking about the actual labor, how painful and trying it is for new parents to go through that sort of thing when they don’t know what to expect. His advice is to play some music that motivates them to stay strong and overcome difficult times in their lives. Kind of like _Mulan’s_ “I’ll Make A Man Out Of You”, because that helped him through some tough times when he thought being an economics teacher was a good idea.

Coach stops his spiel five minutes before class is supposed to end, asking for any questions.

One man asks if they’re going to learn any actual breathing exercises and tips for labor and if he’s got different birthing plans for men and women.

The looks Coach gives him is disdainful, but he _does_ answer the question saying that they’ll start exercises during the next class as a group, and then they’ll split into two groups for male and female pregnancies.

Another man, and Stiles can just _tell_ he’s an alpha because of the douchey persona the man seems to exude—he’d been on his phone the entire class, barely paying attention to the teacher _or_ his partner, and basically acting like he’d rather be anywhere but here—doesn’t bother to raise his hand and ask Finstock how, as a beta, he’s supposed to help omegas with the birthing process.

Finstock’s eyes narrow, and the entire class goes silent, waiting to see how he’ll react.

Of course, he just starts yelling. “Do you think that just because I can’t grow a baby, I don’t know how painful this is for you? And that I just want to make you feel better and _help_ you? And _trust me,”_ his voice goes dangerous here, reduced to almost a hiss as Finstock inches closes to the offending alpha and gets right up in his face. “I _know pain_. I once lost a testicle to exposure.”

He manages to sound threatening on top of that, making it seem like if the alpha doesn’t get his act together, it’ll be _him_ losing a testicle next.

Stiles just laughs so hard that he cries, hiding his face against Derek’s shoulder and making a mental note to buy Lydia whatever she wants for Christmas, because this is _golden_.

Especially when he looks up to see the horror written all over Derek’s face as he watches Finstock wrap up the class.

“Come on,” Stiles pokes him in the chest, grinning. “It’s not so bad.”

Derek stares at him like he can’t quite believe Stiles just said that, which makes Stiles start laughing all over again.

He’s trying to catch his breath when he sees Derek lock his jaw and get this determined look on his face, right before Derek leans down and cups the bump between his hands.

“We’ll just have to get used to the yelling crazy man, won’t we?” Derek starts talking to the baby, sounding all kinds of fond and resigned. “It’s gonna be good practice for when your Auntie Erica is around. She’s also crazy and likes to yell at daddy a lot when I eat her ice cream.”

Stiles places his hands over Derek’s and feels himself melting a little inside, thinking of how Derek’s gonna be such a good dad to their bab—

Oh.

Oh _shit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update: **September 19th around 5pm EST.**


	14. Daddy, if you could only see just how good he’s been treating me, you’d give us your blessing right now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was not supposed to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up to everyone who’s been following the story: seeing as how last chapter ended, we’re sure you know it’s in this chapter that the angst begins. We know, we’re horrible human beings. But don’t worry! We promised you a happy ending, and we’re going to deliver. You just have to hang in there for a bit.
> 
> Chapter title from [Papa Don’t Preach (Madonna) ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G333Is7VPOg). And as usual, here’s the [Settle Down 'Verse Breakdown](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/sdch) in case you need it.
> 
> xoxo,  
> J & P

Stiles can barely think straight after their lamaze class.

Everything had been going _great_.

“Coach” was a hoot, and Derek had looked so awkwardly _judgey_ , it was fantastic.

It was _fun_.

But then, he had to go and screw everything up.

He doesn’t know when he started thinking of the little human in his belly as _theirs_ but he absolutely has been.

Ever since _their packs_ —it really feels more like one big pack to him now—had come over with gifts for the kid, he’s been in a completely different sort of mentality. The mentality where the kid Stiles is carrying is _HisandDerek’s_ instead of just Derek’s.

It’s a little terrifying how easily that had happened.

Stiles  knows that Derek _knows_ something’s up with him. If nothing else, he’s pretty sure his heart rate went _way_ up towards the end of class.

It’s not his fault, okay? Life shattering realizations can do that to a guy.

He also knows that Derek is probably silently _freaking out_ because Stiles had promised he would always tell Derek what was wrong. In the interest of their agreement, in the interest of Derek’s (not Stiles’s) _baby_ , it’s definitely a good idea that he keeps Derek in the loop.

But he can’t talk about _this_.

_This_ is unprecedented.

Fuck, fuck fuck.

This was not supposed to happen.

This isn’t what Stiles signed up for when he agreed to be a surrogate, not even when he agreed to be _Derek’s_ surrogate.

He needed the money, that’s it. Nothing more. That’s how it had started anyways.

But no.

No, sir.

That’s no longer the case.

Because Stiles had to go ahead and _fall in love with Derek Hale_.

And Stiles doesn’t—

He doesn’t even _want_ a child, okay? Not really.

Children are messy and clingy and a _lot of work_. Not to mention, they’re _expensive_. In other words, they’re basically something Stiles isn’t ready for yet.

Something Stiles wasn’t supposed to be ready for for _a long while_.

Or so he thought.

Until, that is, he actually _got pregnant with Derek Hale’s baby_. And not only _that_ but also,  feeling the kid moving inside of him, seeing how much Derek loves him, listening to Derek tell his baby boy all about his family, and feeling Derek touch his belly with so much care it made his stomach flip.

And don’t even get him started on the way Derek _stares_ at his bump, pretty much any time they share space, with so much awe and wonder it’s like he can’t believe he actually gets to have this.

Not to mention the ease of his friendship with Erica, and the fellow comic book nerd he found in Isaac.

Boyd had _just_ started to warm up to him too.

He’s going to lose _all of that_. Because it’s not like he’s going to hang out with the betas after his pregnancy.  

It would be too hard to see Derek’s pack without Derek there.

And it would also be too hard to see Derek with _their son_ , knowing that Stiles has no claim whatsoever on him.

It’s late by the time they reach home, and Stiles goes straight to his room, foregoing dinner for the first time since he’s had morning sickness and locks the door to Derek’s guest bedroom.

He knows that he’s probably worrying Derek right now, that Derek probably has all sorts of questions about what’s happening, but.

Stiles just _can’t deal_ right now. He doesn’t want to _talk_ about what’s bothering him, he doesn’t think he can do it with a straight face.

If he were forced to look at Derek’s confused expression right now, everything would probably come spilling out. Not to mention, there’d be a fair amount of blubbering and tears to go along with that.

Which, of course, would be _so bad_.

He needs to figure out how he’s going to get through the next two months without falling apart.

He doesn’t know how to _do that_ though--didn’t think that anything could be more difficult that losing his mother.

He was mistaken.

And it’s overwhelming him how much he just wants his mom right now.

She would know what to say, what to _do_. She _always_ knew how to make him feel better.

And Stiles can’t take it. Because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

He wasn’t supposed to want this.

He wasn’t supposed to _love_ them.

* * *

Derek’s sitting at his window seat with the latest plans for a new apartment building in Midtown but he can’t really concentrate.

Also, he _can’t stop thinking about Stiles._

He’s thinking about the other day when he and Stiles had shower sex and nearly tripped over each other trying to get out and to the bed. He’s thinking about how Stiles’s face lights up every time one of the pack brings by a present for the baby, every time _Derek_ buys something for the baby. He’s thinking about Stiles laughing at Finstock during lamaze class, and how that was a really good look for him.

You know, until something happened at the end of class that made Stiles’s heart rate go nuts and his expression close off and his scent turn into something bitter that made Derek’s heart plummet into his stomach.

Stiles still hasn’t told him what that was all about, and Derek doesn’t want to  push. As much as he’s _dying_  to know, he’s made clear multiple times that Stiles can always come to him if something is bothering him. That fact that he hasn’t means this is something different, closer to his heart, and Derek won’t push him into sharing if he doesn’t want to.

The same way Stiles never asked him about his family.

It had been the first time he’d spoken about them because he _wanted_ to, not because someone had made him.

And the way Stiles had held and comforted him after?

It was perfect. It had been _exactly_ what he needed to get through it.

Derek wonders how he would have reacted to Stiles if they had met at the coffee shop or the bookstore instead of TOL. He wonders if he would have gotten that now-so-familiar sweet cinnamon scent from Stiles and if they would have hit it off immediately, or snarked their way to something real.

He’s been so resistant to relationships for so many years, but when he thinks back to the last couple months with Stiles, he realizes just how easy it actually is.

Not that _this_ is really a relationship.

He’s surprised by how much that bothers him. How much he wishes this thing with Stiles was _real_.

His pondering is cut short, though,  when Stiles comes into his room looking like _hell_.

He’s got dark rings under puffy eyes, and his hair is a mess, bangs dropping in front of his face instead of in their usual gravity defying spikes.

Derek’s immediately worried.

This is the first time Stiles has sought him out since their lamaze class the day before, and he doesn’t know what to say or think. Is the baby okay? Is _Stiles_ okay?

Given the circumstances, he doubts it.

He also wonders why he’s got the sudden _devastating_ feeling like someone’s about to rip his entire world out from under him. That someone maybe being Stiles.

Derek moves towards Stiles, craving the soft familiar touch between them that has become pretty much a given when they’re in shared space. He can’t help but notice, however, the way Stiles seems closed off. His arms are crossed awkwardly above his belly and his shoulders are hunched forward. Everything about his stance screams ‘do not approach’.

Derek’s worry slowly turns to dread the longer Stiles stands there silently but he  can’t do anything but wait, too afraid to speak and spook Stiles.

When Stiles does speak, though, it’s not to say anything Derek was expecting.

“The anniversary of my mom’s death is coming up,” Stiles says quietly. “Did I ever tell you about her?”

“No,” Derek shakes his head, smiling sadly. “Why don’t we sit down while you do?”

Stiles gulps but nods, and Derek lets out a little sigh of relief when Stiles doesn’t shy away from Derek’s touch as Derek leads them to the couch. His body is still tense under Derek’s hand though, like he’s bracing himself for something.

“She died when I was little,” Stiles starts, looking away from Derek. “Frontotemporal dementia. She was in the hospital for a long time before she finally—”

Stiles’s breath hitches, and with it Derek can feel his heart tugging painfully in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Derek offers, even though he knows it doesn’t help.

“It wasn’t easy, after. Dad and I didn’t really handle things well. We’ve also never really spent this time away from each other. I always go see him so we can visit her grave together.”

Stiles glances at him, and Derek kind of figures out where this is going.

“You want to go visit your dad,” Derek says.

“If that would be okay with you,” Stiles rushes out, placing a hand over his bump. “I know it’s not ideal with the baby and all, but I thought I’d ask. Dad’s in California, and I already talked to Scott. He’ll come with me so I don’t have to fly alone, and that way he would also get to see his mom.”

Derek’s first instinct is to say no.

He’s not sure if its okay for Stiles to be traveling this close to his due date and even more than that, planes _crash_.

Planes crash _every day_ and Derek doesn’t trust anything right now.

His second instinct is to wish that Stiles had asked _him_ to go to California with him.

Yes, Scott makes more sense because he’s got family there too, but had Stiles asked? Derek would’ve accompanied him in a heartbeat.

But Stiles is going to see his widowed father and grieve over his mother. It’d make sense for him to want someone around who’d been present when he went through that, so Derek can’t exactly be mad at Scott for being Stiles’s choice.

He knows _intimately_ what it feels like to grieve family members. He’s done it for years. There’s no way he’s going to deny Stiles the same thing.

So how’s Derek supposed to say no to Stiles going to Beacon Hills?  He can’t. He won’t.

Derek sighs. “It’s fine by me, as long as we I get an all clear for you to fly from Deaton.”

Stiles smiles weakly and nods, “I can do that.”

It makes Derek feel a _little_ better.

Until, instead of letting Derek comfort him, Stiles just walks out, shoulders still hunched and absolutely _exuding_ sorrow. Something that really bothers Derek, considering how much Stiles had helped _him_ when he was hurting over his family.

Not to mention, there’s _still_ something Stiles isn’t telling him.

He’s got the worst feeling that this isn’t _just_ about Stiles’s mom, but has no idea how to bring that up.

How to ask Stiles what else is bothering him.

And Derek doesn’t know how to figure that particular problem out.

* * *

Stiles is glad Derek didn’t say no to him going to CA, mostly because he would have hated lying to Derek about it and going anyway.

That also probably would get him arrested on charges of kidnapping, considering the baby he’s carrying is not legally _his_. And that’s something Stiles should try not to think about, because every time he does it’s like he’s been stabbed in the heart with a knife.

They go in to see Deaton a couple of days later, Stiles and the baby getting checked out and receiving the all clear for them to travel.

“Don’t hesitate to call me if anything happens,” Deaton says as he walks them to the door. “I’m here to help.”

“I promise,” Stiles tells him, even though he’s staring at Derek.

Stiles calls his dad as soon as he gets home, locking himself in the room and putting some music on his laptop so Derek won’t be able to hear him.

“So can you come pick me up at the airport?” Stiles asks, biting down on his bottom lip. “I got a flight for tomorrow morning so I should be in California around one.”

There’s only silence from the other end of the line, and for a second Stiles thinks the call dropped.

But then his dad is breathing out a tired, “Okay,” sounding like he has something else to say but thought better of it.

“I’ll see you soon then?”

“Yeah, kid,” his dad says. “Call me from the plane. Love you.”

“Love you too, dad.”

Stiles spends the night in the guest bedroom, wondering what exactly Derek’s thinking right now. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the way Derek’s face fell when Stiles told him he thought it’d be best if they slept in separate beds that night.

Derek didn’t demand an explanation, though, or told him that wasn’t going to happen. He just bid Stiles goodnight, leaning down to place a kiss over the bump, and then went to his own bed. Alone.

They haven’t spent a night apart in _weeks_ and it’s already affecting Stiles. He’s having a hard time falling asleep, and _staying_ asleep.

Plus he’s constantly cold. He’d gotten too used to Derek’s werewolf warmth.

He wakes up too early the next morning, and can _hear_ Derek working out furiously when he goes to the kitchen for a glass of water. He wonders if Derek’s been cutting back the past couple weeks for his sake, or if he just somehow managed to sleep through it.

He feels awkward when it gets closer to the time he’s supposed to leave—not sure if Derek’s going to drive him or if he’s supposed to go to the airport on his own. They never actually talked about it.

Turns out he has nothing to worry about when Derek emerges from his room only moments later, showered and dressed and ready to go.

He frowns when he sees Stiles just staring at him, though, stopping mid-way into grabbing his keys from a hook in the kitchen.

“I thought I’d drive you?” Derek says hesitantly. “I didn’t know if you’d arranged with Scott for him to pick you up.”

“No, no,” Stiles shakes his head, stomach flipping. “I didn’t. I thought you’d want to be the one to— Well, thanks.”

“No problem,” Derek says with a small smile.

Fuck, this is _so awkward_.

And all because Stiles suddenly has _feelings_ and doesn’t know how to deal with them.

Derek drives him to the airport, and biting down on his lower lip is all Stiles can do to keep himself from crying when Derek hugs him goodbye and bends down to tell his son he’ll see him soon and to be good while he’s away.

“And don’t forget,” Derek whispers. “Daddy loves you. To the moon and back.”

And there’s the knife to his heart all over again.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that he _needs_ some time away and that he truly has never spent this time away from his dad—Derek’s saddened look would’ve had him changing his mind in an instant.

Scott takes one look at him after Derek drives off and just wraps him in a hug, rubbing his hand up and down Stiles’s back.

“I don’t know if this is just about your mom or not, but you’re going to be okay,” Scott says softly. “You’re the strongest dude I know. And I’ll be here with you, helping you, for as long as you need me.”

He nearly bursts out in tears at that, clutching Scott harder before letting go and claiming he needs a donut.

Scott is quick to comply, buying an entire dozen, all of which which they proceed to eat while they wait to board the plane.

Stiles sleeps most of the flight to CA, hugging his dad as tight as he can when he sees him, letting a few tears slide down his face.

His dad doesn’t ask him why he’s crying, just hugs him tightly back, running a hand over Stiles’s hair and saying, “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you home.”

It’s weirdly nice being in his childhood home, remembering how he got through his mother’s death, got through Scott being bitten and the chaos that followed.

It makes him feel like he can get through this too.

His dad took the first couple days that Stiles is visiting off from work, and he, Stiles and Scott spend their time cooking—both he and his dad need to be eating healthy—and watching baseball games, just enjoying each other’s company. Melissa joins them in the evenings after work and it’s _nice_ , especially considering how insane their high school years were.

Stiles spends a lot of time talking to _his son_.

He knows Derek spoke to him everyday, and he doesn’t want his kid to feel abandoned just because Derek isn’t here. Nevermind that Stiles has been talking to him and telling him stories for just as long.

He thinks maybe talking to the baby before had a lot to do with him slowly falling in love with Derek and their child, and there’s something about doing it that’s different now that Stiles is aware of how he feels.

He’s not trying to depress his kid though, so he keeps his stories light and happy, telling his son about himself, about the crazy things Scott and Stiles got up to as kids.

Well, as teenagers too.

He tells his kid that being kinda mischievous is okay, and that he should do what makes him happy.

Stiles tells him how he wishes that he’ll have a friend as awesome as Scott and, hopefully, once Erica and Boyd get busy, that there’ll be lots of kids around for him to play with.

He tells his son that his Daddy Derek is an amazing person who’s had a hard life, and that he needs to make sure that his Daddy _smiles_ more and learns how to laugh again.

He mentions that even though _Star Wars_ is of ultimate importance, things like _Batman_ , and _Spiderman_ , and _Harry Potter_ are not to be ignored.

He tells his son to _always try new things_ because that’s the best way to find something, or _someone_ you love and that _that’s_ what life is all about.

The night before his mom’s anniversary, he tells his kid about the grandparents he’ll never know, telling him about their epic love, and that Stiles hopes his son finds someone to love as much as Stiles’s parents loved each other.

As much as Stiles loves Derek.

Scott and Melissa don’t come around on the day of Claudia’s anniversary, and Stiles and his dad spend the entire day at the cemetery, armed with a picnic lunch and a bouquet each. It’s the only time of year that they talk about her, exchanging stories and anecdotes that they both know by heart but talk about anyway.

His dad goes back to work the day after Claudia’s anniversary, and it’s just Stiles and Scott together, all day long.

It’s starts out with the both of them sleeping in till noon and then ordering a pizza each while they play four straight hours of video games.

And if Stiles having to keep pausing so that he can go relieve himself because apparently his bladder is now the size of a _pea_ , is annoying, Scott never says anything—just waits patiently for Stiles to get back.

But he does keep sending Stiles these _glances_ , though, as if he wants to say or ask something but is not quite sure how Stiles will react.

It’s pretty irritating.

Which is why, when Stiles catches him doing it for the third time in twenty minutes, he pauses the game, turns to him with a raising eyebrow, and says, “Something you want to share?”

Scott makes a face at him, but soon takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Are we going to pretend you’re in Beacon Hills just because of the date and not because there’s something going on with you and Derek?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stiles says, voice tight.

“Stiles,” Scott says kindly, placing a hand on Stiles’s shoulder. “I’m your best friend. I’ve known you my whole life, practically. I know when something’s going on with you.”

“Do you?” Stiles says, more harshly than he intended.

“Yes,” Scott tells him. “I’m also a werewolf. I could smell you and Derek on each other when you started having sex. The reason I didn’t mention anything was because I figured you’d come talk to me about it.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“You usually don’t when you know you’re in over your head but don’t want to admit it to yourself,” Scott points out, and Stiles kind of wishes Scott didn’t know him that well.

Because of course Scott knows what’s going on. He probably figured it out the minute Stiles called him and asked him to fly back to Beacon Hills.

“Kind of like now, huh?”

“Yeah, man,” Scott gives him a sad smile. “Now talk to me.”

He tells Scott about why they started sleeping together and how that turned into them sharing a bed more nights than not and how Derek’s been so unbelievably _caring_ and _attentive_ and _supportive_ of him and all of his needs.

He talks about how the sleeping together turned into constant touches and _gazes_ and the kind of teasing loving relationship Stiles has only heard about in books.

And then he tells Stiles about _his son_. How Stiles been talking to him, telling him about not only about Stiles and his family and friends, but also how it almost seems like his kid is actually comprehending him, kicking him reassuringly now and again.

Scott just listens to it _all_ , nodding sympathetically and offering Stiles comfort when it seems like he needs it.

They end up curled together on Stiles’s bed—something they did _all the time_ as kids and after Scott got bitten—and Stiles talks till he exhausts himself and drifts off to sleep.

His dad doesn’t ask him what’s wrong until his fifth day he’s back, two after the anniversary of his mother’s death, when it’s become obvious that missing her is not the only reason why Stiles has been crying himself to sleep since he got there.

“You have to tell me what’s wrong, son,” the Sheriff says gently. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s happening. And I think all of this crying isn’t good for the little one you’re carrying in there.”

And Stiles?

Stiles takes one look at his dad, concern written all over his face, and tells him everything.

“I _miss him_ ,” Stiles says, all in one breath. “I miss his face and his house and the way he smells and waking up to his grumpy eyebrows in the morning and listening to his voice and hearing  how _fond_ he sounds whenever he talks to the baby. I _miss Derek_ , dad. So much.”

“Oh, kid,” the Sheriff sighs, wrapping an arm around Stiles’s shoulders when Stiles starts tearing up.

“I’m fucked,” Stiles sniffs.

“Language.”

“Sorry,” Stiles mumbles, swallowing hard. “I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with him. I wasn’t supposed to want us to be part of each other’s lives after all of this was over. I thought coming here, being away from him for a little while would help me.”

“But it’s not,” his dad says.

“It isn’t,” Stiles shakes his head, voice cracking. “It really isn’t. I wanted us to be together when I was in New York and I want us to be together when I’m here in Beacon Hills.”

“You know you can’t run away from your feelings, Stiles,” his dad reminds him softly. “No matter how hard you try.”

“I know,” Stiles says, heart sinking. “I still think about him. _All the time_. That’s all I’ve been doing since I got here. Thinking about him and missing him and wishing I didn’t love him. I just keep wishing I had never signed up to be a surrogate.”

“I’m sorry, son.”

Stiles untangles himself from his dad and takes a seat, resting his head on his arms on top of the table. “I just can’t help but think...what if we had met under different circumstances? Kira has known him for _years_ , it’s not crazy to think about. I worked at the bookstore for two years, right next door to where he gets coffee _everyday_. What if we’d met like that? Just two people getting coffee?” He sighs, and slumps down further. “Maybe I would’ve gotten to keep him. And my baby.”

The Sheriff blinks.

And sighs sadly, pulling Stiles into a hug, saying, “You never don’t do things the easy way, do you kid?”

* * *

Derek is pining. He knows he is.

Stiles is at his dad’s and Derek can’t help but feel like his apartment is emptier than it’s ever been. He feels like suddenly his footsteps are echoing in the open space, the sound of his own heartbeat is too loud to his sensitive ears and practically suffocating.

He doesn’t need Boyd’s sympathetic looks or Isaac’s offers of a kitten to cuddle with _or_ Erica’s attempts to keep him busy.

It makes no difference.

His house is empty and there’s no Stiles and no baby and it’s _not right._

He has no idea how it happened, but he had gotten _used_ to the way Stiles would do silly small things for him. Things like have coffee ready for him when he had to go to work, and how, apparently, Stiles screened his mail for the stupid junk shit that Derek doesn’t care to look at.

He even misses the gentle tapping of Stiles’s keyboard which meant that Stiles was actually working on his book.

Because all those things meant that Stiles was _there in his house with him,_ and to not have him there anymore just feels wrong.

He wakes up one morning, a few days after Stiles had left, and finds himself reaching over to the spot Stiles _should_ be in. Beforethat first lamaze class and Stiles shuttingDerek out, Stiles had been sleeping in his bed more nights a week that he _hadn’t_ been.

And now, Stiles’s side is _empty_ and _cold_ and Derek’s sheets no longer smell like Stiles.

And it’s just _not right_ and Derek doesn’t know how to fix this. He just knows that he _needs to_.

But he can’t exactly do it while Stiles is away on the other side of the country, grieving his mom.

So instead Derek occupies his time—you know, when he’s not _pining_ —by going shopping for more baby things he doesn’t really need, finishing the nursery, baby proofing his entire apartment, and buying silly things for the house, like a bottle sanitizer and one of those diaper trash things and a bassinet for his room.

Erica, Isaac, and Boyd come around when he’s getting the nursery in order, helping him put away clothes and organize stuffed animals and check out a list of supplies to make sure Derek has everything ready for when the baby comes.

“Why did you buy this many stuffed toys?” Isaac asks, blinking down at the rows of little animals in front of him.

“Because,” Derek frowns. “What if one of them rips or loses an eye or gets stained?”

“You sew them back together or wash them, Derek,” Isaac blinks. “Like all other parents in the world.”

“This kid is going to be so spoiled,” Boyd shakes his head, lips curling up when Derek scoffs. He is glad though, that they know nothing about the _doubles_ he’s got of some of those stuffed animals hidden in the hall closet.

“There’s nothing wrong with giving my child the best.”

Erica bites down on her bottom lip and walks up to him, grabbing his face in her hands and squeezing his cheeks together.

“You’re going to be the best daddy ever,” Erica tells him. “And I absolutely will not babysit your child if he turns out to be a brat because his father never told him no, didn’t give him any limits, and let him do whatever he wanted.”

“Ditto,” Isaac says.

Derek rolls his eyes. Like his son is going to be anything other than the perfect little gentleman.

Erica’s child however, he’s already dreading.

The most important part of the room, for Derek, is the crib the baby is going to be sleeping in. He’s taken great care in choosing a sturdy long lasting crib, and since cost was no issue, he sort of went a little overboard.

The [crib](http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/81liChEu7ZL._SL1500_.jpg) is a deep dark wood—the store called it espresso—and has got an attached changing table and set of drawers. It’s simple but perfect. The booklet that came with it shows how it can be converted when the baby is a little older into a [toddler bed and later, even a full bed frame](http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/81GLFZBgdWL._SL1500_.jpg).

He likes the idea of his son sleeping in the same bed throughout his childhood. It means it’ll always carry his kid’s—and maybe even his—scent. That thought comforts him and his wolf, and he knows the same will be true for his son if he turns out to be a werewolf.

He’s already made the crib up with two mattresses, a plastic mattress liner (for accidents) and the softest, highest thread count sheets he could find for a crib.

He’s kind of ended up with a forest-y theme for the nursery, the walls are a soft mossy green and the sheets are yellow with a border of dark green leaves. There’s a thick patchwork quilt with cute little woodland animals in each square and a small square pillow with a fawn on it in the corner.

The Hale blanket from Kira is folded neatly near the head of the bed—almost like a pillow. He likes the idea of the blanket being something he carries around so his son always has it on him.

He’s also put glow in the dark stars and a crescent moon on the ceiling—sort of like a very faint nightlight for his son.

He bought a real one too, of course, and it’s tucked in a corner so it’s not directly in the sight line of the crib.

The only thing missing is a mobile, but that’s because Derek’s been saving it until the nursery was ready.

Derek came across it during one of his online shopping nights, iPad balanced against his knees while he sat in bed, Stiles sleeping by his side. He’d been browsing through the wonders of Etsy when a store that sold mobiles caught his attention, and as soon as he laid eyes on that particular mobile, he knew he needed to buy it.

Not only because it was adorable, but because it instantly reminded him of Stiles.

He brings out the box the mobile is in, smiling a little to himself when he opens it and sees the characters hanging from it. He picks it up carefully, placing the box on top of the changing table while he goes aboutputtingthe mobile in its place.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Erica huffs. “You really bought _that_ as your kid’s mobile?”

“What?” Derek frowns, staring at it. “It’s nice.”

It’s _adorable_ is what it is.

It’s simple black plastic criss crossed at the top and at the ends of thick black string are felt plushies of the original Star Wars [characters](http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/c8/dc/9c/c8dc9cdfbb6da64119fef0236968a34c.jpg). There’s a little Luke, a Leia, an R2D2, Yoda, and even a cute felt Darth Vader.

There are a few star plushies and a couple felt light sabers hanging off it as well, and Derek can’t help but feel fond every time he looks at it.

“Derek,” Boyd says, giving him a pointed look.

“What?” Derek says again, lips thin. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing‘s wrong with it,” Isaac says quickly. “It’s just —It doesn’t seem like something _you_ would get for your baby.”

“What?”

And Derek’s a broken record today.

“Yeah,” Erica nods. “It seems like something _Stiles_ would get for _his_ baby.”

Derek blinks at that, because his baby _is_ Stiles’s bab—

Oh _shit_.

“There it is,” Boyd murmurs.

The betas are staring at him with sympathetic looks on their faces, neither of them saying anything as they watch Derek’s eyes widen and his mouth part and listen to his heartbeat go through the roof.

Everytime he pictured the nursery, and the mobile and his _son_ , Stiles has always been there.

But.

That’s not what’s going to happen here.

Stiles is going to have _their son_ and then he’s going to leave.

And Derek cannot put into words how much the thought of that hurts him. Because he wants Stiles around. He wants Stiles to stay after this is all over. And not only because Derek’s gotten used to his presence but because he _likes_ Stiles’s company, because he wants his son to know him, because Stiles is beautiful and perfect and because he would make an amazing father.

An amazing father to _their_ baby.

And also because—

Because—

Fuck.

Because he—

He’s—

Derek takes a deep breath, heart beating a mile a minute when he says, “I’m in love with Stiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re sorry, we are! But, to make it up to you, we only have one week (instead of two) between updates this time around! 
> 
> Next update: **Sept 26th, around 5pm EST.**


	15. If you change your mind, I’m the first in line, honey I’m still free!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re going to be the best dad in the entire world,” Stiles tells him, a tear sliding down his cheek. “And I’m not going to be here to see it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from [Take A Chance on Me (ABBA)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-crgQGdpZR0). And as usual, here’s the [Settle Down 'Verse Breakdown](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/sdch) in case you need it.
> 
> xoxo,
> 
> J & P

Stiles knows he can’t stay in Beacon Hills with his father forever.

Not only is his entire life in New York City, but he still needs to go back to Derek for the last two months of his pregnancy. But to say he’s not looking forward to go back is an understatement.

“You know we can’t stay here any longer,” Scott tells him.

“No shit,” Stiles says, glaring at him. “I _know_ I have to back. I don’t need you to tell me that.”

“Stiles,” Scott sighs, giving him a pointed look.

Stiles deflates. “I’m sorry, it’s just— I don’t know what I’m going to do once I’m back there.”

“You’ll figure things out,” Scott says firmly. “Like you always do.”

He’s worried that it’s not as simple as that this time around.

But still, like he said, he knows what he’s supposed to do.And by that he means he knows he has to go back, because he still has no clue how he’s going to deal with his feelings for Derek.

So he packs his bags, says a _long_ goodbye to his dad and Melissa and heads to the airport with Scott, dreading every moment that brings him closer to Derek.

Every moment that brings him closer to dealing with what’s possibly the worst decision he’s ever had to make: tell Derek about his feelings and run the risk of being rejected and never being able to see his son again? Or don’t tell Derek about his feelings for him and _definitely_ never see his son again?

Kira and Derek are waiting for them at the baggage claim, and Stiles _aches_ at the elated look on her face when she sees Scott.

The look on Derek’s face seems to be just as eager,and Stiles can feel his heart beat a little bit faster at the sight of it.For a second, Stiles thinks that Derek is going to pull him into a hug, but instead he just grabs Stiles's bag from him after a quick rub on the underside of Stiles’s belly.

Stiles hugs Kira and Scott goodbye, giving Scott a shaky smile when his best friend holds him for a few seconds too long and gives him a look as if asking if he’s going to be okay.

He knows Derek notices the exchange, and once again he’s grateful Derek is not someone to push for answers people don’t want to give. Because Stiles is pretty sure that if Derek were to confront him now about what’s been going on with him, Stiles would burst into tears.

Or kiss him and profess his love.

He doesn’t know which one is worse.

“How’s your dad?” Derek asks him, glancing at him from the corner of his eye.

“He’s okay,” Stiles says softly. “Better now that the anniversary’s come and gone.”

“That’s good,” Derek nods. “And how are you?”

Stiles swallows hard, hand finding its way to rest on top of his bump.

“I’m okay,” he says, and at the slight tensing of Derek’s shoulders, Stiles wonders if he can hear his lie.

They drive home in silence, and Stiles _hates_ how awkward things are between them. It’s amazing how things can go _so wrong_ in just a short week, with them going from laughing and smiling and being comfortable around each other to _this_.

They walk up to the apartment in silence, Derek still holding onto Stiles’s bags and placing his arm lightly on the small of Stiles’s back.

Part of Stiles wants to lean into the touch, take advantage of it for as long as possible, but the more logical part of him knows that would only make things harder later on. And it’salready hard enough.

He manages to unpack fairly quickly—he hadn’t really taken a lot of things with him to his dad’s—, and he’s at a loss for what to do know that he’s finished.

Normally he’d go to the living room and sprawl out on the couch, but he’s not sure how he feels about being in shared space right now. That usually leads to him and Derek cuddling, or sitting close enough their sides touch, and whenever that happens Derek ends up with his hands on Stiles’s belly, head bent so he speak to his son. And as much as Stiles loves hearing him, today he’s not sure he can take it.

He’s on his way to the kitchen for a glass of water when he walks by the nursery and a flash of green catches his eye.

He walks slowly to the door, glass of water forgotten, and steps inside the nursery. His eyes widen as he looks around, stomach flipping at seeing all the work Derek’s obviously put into the baby’s room.

Derek must have been really busy—or really bored—when Stiles was gone.

Because the nursery looks _complete_.

And it’s _gorgeous_.

It looks warm and comforting and soft _everywhere_. The furniture is all made of beautiful dark wood—a crib in the middle with a set of drawers on one side and a rocking chair on the other.

Everything is vaguely forest themed which, under normal circumstances, would make him snort in laughter but all he can think now is how _happy_ his kid is going to be growing up in here.

It’s very obvious how careful Derek was in choosing everything, from the wall color to the furniture to the basket full of diapers on top of the changing table.

It reminds Stiles of why he was so sure about doing this for Derek in the first place.

Because Derek is going to be _such a good dad_. And _no one_ deserves this more than him.

Stiles just stands there and thinks that he’s actually really lucky that _he_ gets to give Derek this amazing gift because he _loves_ him, and he’s obviously giving Derek something that’s _clearly_ going to become Derek’s entire world.

And that’s possibly enough for Stiles.

He can live with that.

He can hold on to that thought and move away and leave Derek and his son to live their lives.

Without him.

He knows it’ll hurt. He knows it’ll be one of the most difficult and awful decisions he’ll have to make, walking away from Derek and their son, but knowing his child will be loved more than anyone in the entire world will make it suck a little bit less.

He thinks.

Or at least he _hopes_. Furiously. With everything he has.

Stiles moves closer to the crib then, just to feel the soft fabric of the sheets on his fingers. And that’s when he looks up at the mobile for the first time and his heart stops.

Because right there, hanging above what’s going to be his son’s bed, is a _Star Wars_ mobile.

Stiles can feel his eyes filling with tears and he lifts a shaking hand, fingers bumping into the characters from his favorite movie dangling from the mobile.

He knows Derek is the one who did this. He’d never accept something like this for his baby unless he personally bought it himself. And that’s—

That’s—

Stiles starts crying at the knowledge that his son is going to go to bed every night and wake up every morning looking at _this_. He’ll play with it and giggle at it and possibly try to tug it out of place when he’s old enough to stand and get his tiny little hands on it.

And Stiles chokes on sobs because _his and Derek’s son_ will have this but they’ll grow up without ever knowing _him,_ the other person who helped give life to him. And maybe one day Derek might get over his commitment fear and there will be someone _else_ watching _Star Wars_ with _his child_ and _his Derek_ and—

And Stiles can’t have that.

He can’t take it.

No.

 _No_.

* * *

Derek’s certain now that Stiles’s strange behavior before he left was a result of more than just his mother’s anniversary.

Stiles came back from his trip with the same anxious and saddened expression he’d had before he left—the expression that had started at their first lamaze class.

Derek’s not sure what to do with himself when Stiles goes straight into the guest room once they get back to the apartment. He figures that Stiles needs some times to get unpacked and settled back in, so he tries to busy himself by tidying up around the living room—he’d started working again on the nights that the pack wasn’t over and various contracts and blueprints are all over the couch cushions.

He’s on his way to the kitchen to start making dinner for himself and Stiles when he hears a weird sniffling noise coming from the nursery.He focuses his hearing, a lump forming in his throat when he recognizes the quick beat of Stiles’s heart and choked up sobs coming from the room.

Derek’s by Stiles’s side in a second, thankful for his werewolf speed. His own heart goes into overdrive at seeing tears running down Stiles’s face, his eyes red and puffy, shoulders slumped into itself.

His scent is so thick with misery and distress it makes bile rise in Derek’s throat.

“What is it?” Derek rushes, grabbing Stiles’s by the arms. “What’s wrong?”

Stiles’s only answer is another sob, one hand coming to curl into the front of Derek’s shirt.

Derek gathers him close, bringing a hand up to the back of Stiles’s head, fingers running through his hair as he tries to soothe him. At the same time he tries to use his senses to figure out what’s wrong, coming up empty when he can hear his son’s heartbeat is normal and there’s no smell of blood anywhere. Not even his attempts at taking Stiles’s pain away does anything, because Stiles _isn’t_ in any pain. Not physical, at least.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby,” Derek murmurs. “It’s alright. I’ve got you. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles cries, nails digging into Derek’s chest.

“I’m here,” Derek says, starting to feel a little desperate. “I’m right here. Tell me how I can help you. Tell me what you need me to do.”

It’s _killing_ Derek to see Stiles like this. He only ever wants to see Stiles _laughing_ and _happy_ , his big beautiful eyes bright with mirth and mischief.

 _That’s_ how Stiles should always be, laughing and teasing Derek and brightening up Derek’s entire world.

And that isn’t what Stiles looks like _now_ and it’s _wrong_.

And Derek needs to _fix it_.

“Stiles, please, tell me what to do. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t.” Stiles gasps out, finally, between sobs. “Nothing’s wrong. You’re perfect. This—this _room_ is perfect. The crib, and…” Stiles turns around and looks mournfully at the crib. “And the _mobile_. It’s all amazing.”

Derek finds himself at a loss as fresh tears spill from Stiles’s eyes, his heart breaking at seeing how much pain Stiles is in.

“Stiles, I don’t…,” Derek trails off, not knowing what to say, not knowing what’s even _happening_.

Is this because of all the pregnancy hormones Derek’s always hearing about?

“You’re going to be such a good dad,” Stiles whispers. “And you’re going to love this baby so so much.”

“Of course I will,” Derek replies without a second thought. “Is that what’s wrong? Were you worried I wasn’t going to—”

Derek cuts off, not even bringing himself to finish the sentence.

And not that he gets a chance to, when Stiles smacks him in the shoulder and says, “ _No_. That’s not what’s wrong! _Nothing’s_ wron— Not, wait. It _is_. There _is_ something wrong.”

“Tell me what it is,” Derek breathes out, ready to bend himself backwards to fix it.

Stiles’s bottom lip trembles as he looks up at Derek, face stricken, eyes huge and sad.

“You’re going to be the best dad in the entire world,” Stiles tells him, a tear sliding down his cheek. “And I’m not going to be here to see it.”

Derek thinks he stops breathing as soon as those words are out of Stiles’s mouth.

“What?” he asks faintly.

“I’m not gonna be here to see it,” Stiles repeats. “And I _want_ to be here to see it, Derek. Fuck, I wantthat so much.”

Derek freezes, and Stiles starts to back away, untangling himself from Derek and looking _horrified_.

Which no, Stiles needs to _come back_ because _that’s exactly what Derek wants too_.

But before he can say anything—before he can get Stiles back in his arms and tell him that _yes_ and _me too, I want that too_ —Stiles closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “But I can’t have it.”

And it’s like Derek’s entire world crumbles in that moment, the glimmer of hope that he had earlier crashing and burning at Stiles’s words.

* * *

Stiles really wishes he’d done the blubbering thing back home with his dad, or with Scott, or even just by himself in his room.

Anything but doing _this_ in front of Derek.

Derek, who just held him close and stroked his hair and was _so concerned_ for Stiles.

It just made it all harder.

Maybe being back here made things worse, seeing Derek’s _face_ and how worried he seems to be, and how easily he was able to figure out that something was wrong with Stiles.

Maybe it’s the fact that he’s standing in the most perfect nursery he could imagine for his baby boy, and _didn’t get to have any part of creating it_.

It just drives the point home that this is not his life, that after the baby comes _everything_ is going to change and that he need to somehow go back to his old life after all of this.

Just the thought of that makes him almost buckle over in pain, because he can’t imagine what that’s going to be like. Not when he almost broke into a million pieces missing Derek when he was in Beacon Hills, and that was just a single _week_ he was away.

He’s pretty sure he’s never sobbed this much in his life. And it only gets worse with Derek being _so nice_ to him, hugging him, trying to comfort him, asking Stiles what he can do to help.

Fresh tears spill over and slide down Stiles’s face, because that’s Derek in a nutshell isn’t it? Always trying to take care of him and making sure he has everything he needs.

But not this time.

Because this time what Stiles needs is _Derek_ and _their baby_ and the three of them _together_.

And it’s like his heart is breaking all of again.

Not to mention how he feels when he sees Derek’s face after his confession—mouth hanging open and eyes wide in surprise looking like that’s the _last_ thing he expected Stiles to say.

Stiles doesn’t know if that’s a good thing.

He’s also not sure he wants to find out.

Which is why he keeps talking, words rushing out of himuncontrollably, confessing to everything he’s been thinking over the last few days.

“But I can’t have it,” Stiles says again, sounding just as choked up and hurt as before. “Because this isn’t how this works. This isn’t the deal we made when we agreed to do this. I wasn’t supposed to get attached and I wasn’t supposed to—”

Stiles blinks back tears, eyes focused somewhere around Derek’s collarbone. He can’t look him in the eye, not when he’s cracking himself open like this. Which is why he misses the heartbroken look on Derek’s face as he talks.

“I wasn’t supposed to _love you_ ,” Stiles says brokenly. “I wasn’t supposed to love _our child_. I wasn’t supposed to think of him as _ours_ but I do. I do, and it’s not right. It’s not fair to you. This isn’t what we agreed on. Not when the reason why you started this was because you wanted a son or a daughter but not a relationship. And I knew that before anything happened but I still— I still ended up falling in love with you, _both of you_. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Derek. I love you. I’m sorry.”

* * *

Derek can’t believe what he’s hearing.

He also can’t believe how it’s possible for him to feel so fucking _hopeful_ and so fucking _sad_ at the same time.

Hopeful because this, everything Stiles has been saying, is exactly what he realized he wanted this past week without him around. And sad because seeing the pain Stiles is in, seeing how much the thought of walking away after the baby is born hurts, hurts _him_.

Derek is not having much success with calming Stiles down, his arms wrapped around Stiles’s body and holding him close doing nothing to help.

It’s not any new to him how Stiles can work himself up or down from something the more he keeps talking, and right now Derek’s starting to worry Stiles might talk himself into a panic attack because he refuses to listen to what Derek’s trying to tell him.

Derek carefully leads them both to the large, squashy rocking chair in the nursery, glad when Stiles doesn’t fight him.

He sits down on it before sliding his hands to Stiles’s hips and pulling Stiles down on his lap, rearranging them in the chair so he’s curled protectively around him and the bump. That means he has both of his arms wrapped around Stiles and Stiles’s legs over his own, Stiles leaning fully against the back of the chair while Derek is sitting sideways and facing him. Their faces are close, foreheads almost touching, and Derek can feel Stiles’s breath against his skin as Stiles keeps babbling.

“Stiles,” Derek tries softly, nuzzling against Stiles’s cheek, lips tasting the salt of his tears.

Stiles’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t stop talking. Derek just holds him tighter, bringing one hand up to cup Stiles’s cheek, fingers stroking the wet skin.

“Stiles, I need you to calm down,” Derek says, placing small kisses over the side of Stiles’s face, his ear, his hair. “I need you to calm down so you can listen to me.”

Stiles shakes his head, bottom lip trembling, fingers grasping at Derek’s shirt right over his chest. He’s gone from talking to mumbling, though, which Derek thinks is a good thing.

“That’s it, baby,” Derek encourages him, hugging Stiles closer, letting his fingers tangle through Stiles’s hair. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Everything’s going to be okay.”

It takes them a few more minutes, but then Stiles is staring at him in confusion, eyes red and lashes wet.

“Are you ready to listen to me?” Derek asks him, making sure Stiles knows he isn’t angry or upset by leaning in and rubbing their noses together.

“What?” Stiles croaks out, eyes widening.

Derek takes a deep breath, heart beating rapidly in his chest before he says, quietly,  “I woke up every morning you were gone reaching out for you and _you weren’t there_.”

Stiles’s sharp intake of breath almost makes Derek quit speaking, but he knows it’s important for both of them for him to to admit to what he’s been feeling.

“I would come home everyday after work and immediately listen for _you,_ your heartbeat along with the baby’s, because I knew that if you were there that I had _everything_ I needed,” Derek tells him, vaguely aware of the way Stiles’s heart rate quickens. “Every decision I made while I was making the nursery, I thought of you. I thought about what you would like, what you would approve of, what would make you smile, what you would want for—for _our son_.”

“Derek,” Stiles tries, only to snap his mouth shut when Derek shakes his head at him.

“I even bought that mobile because of _you_ ,” Derek says, letting out a small laugh. “I heard you talking to the baby about how important that movie was to you and how he needed it in his life. Because of that, the second I saw the mobile, I had to buy it. Because I also want you to be a part of _our lives_.”

“Derek, what are you—” Stiles interrupts again, shifting a little in place so he’s leaning forward and closer to Derek.

Derek huffs, torn between annoyance and amusement, and doesn’t hesitate before he pinches Stiles’s lips shut.

Stiles makes an affronted sound in the back of his throat, batting Derek’s hand away.

“This isn’t just about the baby for me Stiles,” Derek says, sliding his hand down Stiles’s chest so it can rest it right above Stiles’s heart. “It hasn’t been just about that for a really long time.”

Stiles opens his mouth to say something, but stops when Derek snorts and shakes his head at him.

“Figures you’d try to keep interrupting when I’m trying to tell you that I love you,” Derek says, all fondness, a small smile playing on his lips.

* * *

Holy shit, how is this _real_?

Derek _loves_ him?

Derek wants him and the baby and the whole package?

How is that even something he’s allowed to have?

He’s sitting there, on the comfiest armchair in the _world_ by the way, all wrapped up in Derek and _Derek loves him._

He gets to keep the _mobile_ and watch his— _their_ son play with it and love it.

Stiles gets to watch his son grow up, and _take his first steps_ and say his first words. And even better than _all_ of that, he gets to do it with _Derek by his side_.

And if this isn’t the single best day in his life, he doesn’t know what is.

And Derek’s right there, kissing him and hugging him, and _loving him_. He’s murmuring the best sorts of words right in Stiles’s ear—telling Stiles how much he hated it when Stiles wasn’t there, and how things felt _wrong_ and his apartment was too empty and it’s a perfect reflection of everything Stiles had felt when he was at his dad’s.

“Do you really mean it?” Stiles asks, voice small.

It’s not that he needs reassurance, it’s just that… Well, okay, he needs reassurance.

Because this doesn’t seem _real_.

Not once since he realized how deep his feelings for Derek ran did he entertain the idea that Derek might want him _back_. So it’s not surprising that he’s, you know, _surprised_ that Derek _does_ want him.

Derek seems to get it, because instead of rolling his eyes or laughing at him he his smiles, eyes warm and soft.

“I mean it.”

Stiles lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, slumping forward until their foreheads touch.

“You love me,” Stiles repeats, awe coloring his tone.

“And _you_ love _me_ ,” Derek replies, the hand still right over Stiles’s heart moving down to rest over the bump. “And we’re both going to love our son more than anything.”

Stiles is smiling so hard now that his cheeks are starting to hurt. “I can’t believe you bought a _Star Wars_ mobile.”

Derek huffs, managing to look offended even though he’s smiling. “Are you telling me you don’t like it?”

Stiles shakes his head, rubbing his nose along Derek’s temple in the process. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Hale. Obviously it’s the best mobile in the world and _proof_ that we’re going to be amazing parents.”

Stiles almost can’t believe how _easy_ that is to say. He’s going to be a _parent_. With Derek. Somehow, that feels just like how things were supposed to be between them.

Derek and he are in _love_ and Stiles doesn’t ever have to leave and they’re going to have a _son_ in less than two months.

They’re going to be a _family_.

Derek stops nuzzling the side of his cheek at that, and touches Stiles’s chin gently and makes him look at Derek in the eyes. “I have no doubt in my mind that you’re going to be an amazing father, Stiles.”

Stiles falters a little at the conviction and intensity he sees in Derek’s eyes. “You’re _already_ an amazing dad, Derek. I can’t wait to do this with you.”

He sees something like surprise and awe flash in Derek’s eyes before he’s leaning forward slowly to slot his lips against Stiles’s. They kiss chastely for a moment, pouring all their love and affection and in Stiles’s case, _relief_ into the kiss, just enjoying the intimacy of it.

Stiles stops the kiss before it gets too heated though, shifting backwards a little and leaning his forehead against Derek’s.

“God, we did this _all_ backwards,” Stiles says as he brings his hands up to Derek’s face, stroking against his jawline and running a finger down Derek’s nose and over his lips before putting his palms on Derek’s neck and curling his fingers in Derek’s hair. He huffs out a laugh. “Just like in Juno.”

Derek laughs softly then too, and Stiles revels in it, vowing silently to himself to make Derek laugh as much as possible for _the rest of his life_.

Because he can.

Because he gets to _have Derek_ for the rest of his life.

Derek, who’s sliding his hand reassuringly along Stiles’s sides and looking at him with mirth and mischief in his eyes. “Well, I do have your underwear in my dresser.”

Stiles rolls his eyes at the movie reference before he pouts, sticking his lower lip out comically and preening when Derek’s eyes immediately go to it.

“But I don’t have your virginity,” he says finally, mostly joking, but still a little upset.

Especially because he knows now who _did_ and how much she _didn’t deserve it at all_.

He would’ve done anything in his power to shield Derek from that.

Derek just shakes his head and curls a hand around one of Stiles’s wrist and tugs it down so Stiles’s palm is resting over Derek’s chest. “You have my heart though. Forever.”

Stiles blinks at him and then groans, letting his head drop against Derek’s shoulder.

“Oh my _god_ , that was _so cheesy_.”

“You liked it, though,” Derek says, pressing his smile against the side of Stiles’s head.

Stiles pulls back, narrowing his eyes.

“Is this what I have to look forward to?” he asks. “Cuddling and bad romance lines? Because I’m not sure I can take this amount of sap.”

“Yes, all of that,” Derek says seriously. “And me loving you, too.”

Stiles has to bite down on the inside of his cheek not to coo at him, but he still feels blood rushing to his cheeks as he shifts on Derek’s lap.

Because Derek is trying to be funny and romantic and he’s _so bad at it_. But he’s also _so so so cute_ that all Stiles wants to do is kiss him.

He tells Derek that much.

“I need you to kiss me,” Stiles breathes out. “If you kissing me then you’re not free to fail at trying to seduce—”

Derek presses their lips together and kisses him, slow and deep until Stiles is pretty sure he’s going to pass out from how happy he is.

“I don’t have to seduce you,” Derek murmurs against his lips.

“Because you already got me?” Stiles asks, lips curling up in a smile.

“Yes,” Derek nods, their noses bumping together. “And you’ve got me.”

Stiles is the one to kiss him this time.

They sit there for awhile, curled close together as they exchange kisses and whispers that they love each other and how happy they are.

They’re so close together, that when Stiles’s stomach grumbles loudly in hunger, Derek _feels_ it against his side and laughs _again,_ right against Stiles’s mouth.

Stiles is so caught up in how beautiful Derek looks when he laughs that he barely notices Derek lifting him bridal style and carrying Stiles into his room.

“Into _our_ room,” Derek whispers later, when Stiles mentions it out loud.

Derek brings Stiles a grilled cheese sandwich in bed, and as Stiles eats, he watches Derek carry all of Stiles’s things from the guest room into Derek’s—stopping only to place quick, chaste kisses on Stiles’s lips as he walks past him.

It only takes Derek a couple trips, so before long, he’s scooting Stiles down in the bed and slotting himself behind Stiles, leaning Stiles against his chest, seated comfortably between Derek’s legs.

Stiles feeds him bites of his sandwich when Derek complains about all the work he just did and Stiles just rolls his eyes. “Better get used to it, love. I’m not going to be helpful at _all_ while I’ve  got this little munchkin playing my organs like a drum set. It makes for uncomfortable furniture moving.”

Derek accepts the food gladly, sucking on and running his teeth against Stiles’s fingers before he lets them go and blushing a deep pink at Stiles’s endearment. “I _guess_ I can make do without you. Puny human.”

Stiles elbows him in the stomach lightly, before he lights up, twisting around to stare at Derek in awe. “Did you just quote _The Avengers_ at me?” He bats his eyelashes and places a quick, wet kiss against Derek’s collarbone. “I guess you do know the way to my heart after all.”

“Good for me,” Derek says, running a hand through Stiles’s hair. “I could call the betas over to help. Or maybe your pack?”

“Oh,” Stiles startles, twisting so he can grab his phone from the nightstand. “That reminds me.”

He opens up a new text and selects both his dad’s and Scott’s numbers, typing out a quick _Derek and I are in love. Will call later._ before hitting send.

Derek, who’s peering down down at his phone, snorts. “Was that really necessary?”

“It was,” Stiles says softly, putting his phone away. “They were really worried about me.”

“We worked things out, though,” Derek says quietly, rubbing his cheek against Stiles’s own.

“That we did,” Stiles kisses Derek’s nose. “And you don’t have to call the pack. We can put things away little by little.”

“You’re sure?” Derek frowns. “It’s probably only take a few hours if they’re here helping.”

“I’m sure. I missed you while I was away, so I want a few days just for us,” Stiles says. “And Coach’s lamaze classes.”

“I missed you, too,” Derek admits, holding him closer.

“So that means we get the next few days just for ourselves? And our baby?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Oh, really,” Stiles smirks, eyes glinting. “Whatever I want?”

Stiles watches as the tips of Derek’s ears start turning red. He’d think Derek would be over that by now, considering everything they’ve already done together.

“Whatever you want that’s in this realm of possibility,” Derek explains. “And that it won’t involve body paint or me being tied or handcuffed to anything.”

“There goes my fun,” Stiles pouts. “Now go back to telling me nice things.”

Derek’s blush deepens even as he smiles fondly at Stiles. “I definitely loved you far before I was aware of it.”

Stiles smiles shyly at that, putting the plate on Derek’s side table and licking his fingers before leaning completely against Derek and looking up at him from under his lashes. 

“You’re not the only one.” He nuzzles his nose against Derek’s chest for a moment before he barks out a laugh. “I can’t believe it took us this long to figure it out.”

“But we did, though,” Derek says, smiling, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s what matters.”

“Still, though,” Stiles shakes his head at him, just before leaning in for a kiss. “We’re such idiots.”

Idiots  _ in _ love .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update: **Oct 10rd, around 5pm EST.**


	16. I don’t know how else to sum it up, ‘cuz words just ain’t enough.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek thinks he’s going out of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from [Better than Words (One Direction)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RwtXimwcvK8). And as usual, here’s the [Settle Down 'Verse Breakdown](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/sdch) in case you need it.
> 
> xoxo,
> 
> J & P

Derek thinks he’s going out of his mind.

Which is the opposite of what he was expecting to happen after he and Stiles finally sorted their shit out.

It’s just that, well. Ever since Stiles got back from his father’s house and they finally _finally_ got their heads out of their asses and came clean about how they feel for each other? Stiles has been _ecstatic,_ all warm eyes and huge smiles, laughing non-stop and dancing gleefully around the apartment.

It’s like Stiles is emanating happiness, and as a result, his scent is warm and full and absolutely mouth-watering. All Derek wants to do is roll around in it, wrap himself up around Stiles, touch him and kiss him and _love him_.

But Stiles won’t let Derek _do anything_.

Sure, they still make out like it’s no one’s business, slow and sloppy and just because they _can_ , but Stiles won’t let Derek touch him below his waist. And that’s something that makes Derek’s mornings just as ridiculously frustrating as they are _amazing_.

They’re in bed, tangled in each other, just like every morning they have woken up together since Stiles got back.

Derek usually is the one to wake up first, lips curling up as he blinks sleep out of his eyes. His body is warm, not only because of his naturally high temperature but also because Stiles is curled into him, one of his legs thrown over Derek’s, his head pillowed on Derek’s chest, his hand resting right above his heart.

Derek takes his fill, hand coming up so he can trace a finger over the bridge of Stiles’s nose, the curve of his lips, the shell of his ear. He feels overwhelmed for a second, knowing now he gets to have this for the rest of his life, has a future to look forward to and countless mornings where they’ll wake up just like this, pressed impossibly close together.

Stiles makes a little pleased sound when Derek’s touch finds its way to his hair, _through_ it, Derek’s nails scratching at his scalp. Derek smiles to himself at the way Stiles melts even more against him, and he can’t help but duck his head and press his lips against Stiles’s forehead in a soft kiss.

“Stop watching me sleep,” Stiles mumbles, hiding his face against Derek’s shoulder and neck.

“Can’t help it,” Derek says quietly.

“I know I’m awesome and you love me,” Stiles says, and Derek can feel Stiles’s smile against his skin. “But this is creepy.”

“What do you want me to do, then?” Derek asks, hand sweeping down to rest on the back of Stiles’s neck.

“You could kiss me good morning, for starters.”

“Oh?”

“Yup,” Stiles nods, sliding a hand up and down Derek’s side. “Then you could make me breakfast. The kid will be up soon and he’ll be hungry.”

“ _He_ will, huh?” Derek asks dryly.

“Yes,” Stiles says seriously, lifting his head up to finally look at Derek. “So you better get to the kissing part.”

Derek chuckles lowly but complies, closing the distance between them and catching Stiles’s lips in a kiss. It is slow and sweet and _perfect_ , even if they both taste of morning breath, and soon enough Derek is rolling to his side so he can get a better angle to deepen the kiss.

Only to have Stiles close his mouth in response, pulling away after a chaste kiss and moving so he’s on his back and away from Derek.

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek whines, chasing after him and hiding his face against Stiles’s neck, lips at his pulse point.

“Breakfast,” Stiles says, and even though Derek can’t see him he knows Stiles is smirking. “Go make it for me, please. I’m thinking pancakes.”

“I have other ideas,” Derek says, rocking his hips forward, his morning wood pressing against Stiles’s thigh.

“We’ve done plenty of that already,” Stiles snorts.

“We could it do it some more. Right now.”

“Nope,” Stiles says. “Right now you’re going to get up and feed me and our son. Because we had sex and I’m pregnant and we did everything _backwards_. So now I want to be _wooed_ , Derek Hale.”

Derek snorts, rolling his eyes as he gets up from the bed after a quick peck to Stiles’s temple. It’s the same thing he’s been hearing for days now. Stiles wants them to talk and enjoy each other’s company.

Without sex.

He’s not against courting Stiles, not really. He’s actually looking for to it, his wolf excited at the prospect of proving himself. It’s just that he _misses_ sex. He misses the sounds Stiles makes and how he feels and the way their scents mix together and they smell like each other for days afterward.

But if this is something Stiles wants right now, Derek is sure as hell going to give it to him.

There’s not much he would deny Stiles.

Especially when Stiles’s response to breakfast in bed is to light up completely, eyes bright and happy, mouth curled into a gorgeous smile. Derek would have no problem making Stiles breakfast everyday for the rest of his life if it meant seeing Stiles that pleased over it. It makes his wolf preen in pride.

It also doesn’t hurt that Stiles cuddles up to him as soon as Derek sets the tray on the bed and sits down, placing a quick kiss on Derek’s jaw before turning to the stack of pancakes in front of him.

Derek takes a sip of his orange juice to keep himself from letting out a pleased growl, but by the slight twitch of Stiles’s lips he doesn’t think he’s that successful at it. Not that he minds much when Stiles cuts of a piece of pancake and offers it to him.

“I can feed myself,” Derek grumbles, failing miserably at sounding annoyed.

“I try to do something nice,” Stiles sighs, shaking his head.

Derek snorts, closing his lips around Stiles’s fork and eating. He raises his eyebrows when Stiles smiles at him, making a soft sound when Stiles leans in to brush their lips together.

They eat breakfast like that, taking turns feeding each other and trading kisses along the way. It’s better than anything Derek imagined, having Stiles there with him, secure in the knowledge that they’d have many mornings like this one in their future.

A little while later Stiles grunts, hand coming up to rest against the side of his stomach.

“Someone’s up,” Stiles says, wrinkling his nose a little.

Derek hums, sliding down on the bed until his head with level with Stiles’s belly. He rests a hand half over Stiles’s, thumb tracing the soft skin of Stiles’s knuckles. He can feel their son kicking around, his tiny hand or feet hitting against their hands.

“Hey, cub.” Derek uses his other hand to push Stiles’s shirt up so he can get to skin, nuzzling at Stiles’s stomach with his nose. “You had some exciting few days, huh?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, amusement coloring his tone. “With daddy and I being all sorts of idiots about our feelings. But we figured everything out now, so you don’t have to worry.”

“You’re going to have both of us,” Derek tells him, getting a little choked up. “We’re going to raise you, love you, and take care of you. _Together_. We’re going to be a team. The three of us.”

“A pack, with all of us. Your aunts and uncles, too,” Stiles quickly adds, running his fingers through Derek’s hair when Derek looks up at him. “I’m sure daddy and Uncle Scott can come up with a way to make that happen.”

Derek nods, kissing the skin right over Stiles’s belly button. He’s heard of packs being ruled by more than one Alpha, even though he doesn’t think that’s what’ll happen with them. There’s a very distinct line between Derek’s Betas and Scott’s, but with the way everyone gets along with each other there won’t be much change about how things work. The most that will happen is that Stiles and their baby will have the protection and power of two packs behind him, both Hale and McCall.

“You’re going to have a big family,” Derek says, voice wavering. “Just like I did.”

Derek rests his forehead against the bump and closes his eyes, wishing for the hundredth time that his family was alive so they could meet his son.

“We’ll tell him stories,” Stiles promises, his own eyes wet. “About those who can’t be here with us anymore.”

Derek kisses the bump one more time before scooting up, making himself comfortable on his side so he can stare at Stiles. He traces a finger down the bridge of Stiles’s nose, over his eyebrows, against the curve of Stiles’s bottom lip. His mouth chases that same path, placing soft kisses all over Stiles’s face before reaching his lips, tasting the sweetness of the syrup had with his pancakes for breakfast.

It’s the perfect morning, especially when Derek feels the press of his son’s kick against his stomach. And it’s even better when every morning after Derek and Stiles told each other how they felt pretty much always goes like this.

Derek has to say he’s not hating Stiles’s idea of being wooed as much as he thought he would.

It’s a kind of slow torture, but still. It’s worth it.

Even more so when he gets home one day after work to one of the most amazing smell in the world.

Actually, he can smell it from the hallway, and he’s a little embarrassed to admit he spends the entire walk from the elevator to his door scenting the air. And also thanking the heavens Stiles can’t see him. The amount of dog jokes he would have to endure after this would be _too many_.

Whatever it is that’s smelling so good is also making his mouth water, and Derek’s too distracted thinking about what it could be that he almost misses the state of his dining room table when he steps inside the apartment.

He’s glad he doesn’t, though, as his heart trips all over the place as he takes in the candles, the red table cloth, and the nice fancy dishes that Derek knows aren’t his but look amazing against the entire set up.

An old Chuck Berry record is playing faintlyfrom the stereo in the living room and Stiles is sitting at the head of the dining table, smiling softly with a slight blush on his face. He stands up when he sees Derek, though, and Derek doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Stiles’s waist and kiss him soundly.

Stiles laughs into the kiss, ending it far too soon with a nip to Derek’s top lip and a nuzzle against his jaw. Derek just moves his lips to Stiles’s neck, licking and nipping at the skin there, growling a little in satisfaction when the skin starts to turn pink.

Stiles ducks out from under him, and makes a swatting motion towards the bedroom door— _their_ bedroom door. “Go change while I finish up here. Then we can start the evening I planned for you.”

Derek does as he says, unable to  keep the smile off his face as he changes and washes up faster than he ever has before. When he gets back outside, Stiles is lighting a matching set of long tapered white candles set exactly in the center of the table.

In addition to the tableware now, is a huge covered platter of something that smells _amazing_ , a tray with what looks like garlic bread and a huge wooden bowl filled with italian salad.

Stiles smiles at what must be a blissed out look on Derek’s face and angles his head towards the table. “I know we’re past the point of actual dates, what with the pregnancy and love confessions and all, but that doesn’t mean I can’t cook for you.” He looks at Derek, smile faltering for a second, and looking hesitant. “Is that okay?”

“Yes,” Derek says firmly, nodding along in case Stiles’s doesn’t get just how okay he is with all of this. “ _Yes_ , Stiles, this is okay. It’s _amazing_.”

“Well,” Stiles sniffs, trying not to look too smug. “That’s good. Because I plan on this being a thing that happens now. I mean, not me cooking for you all the time because _let me tell you_ , it’s not easy doing this when I’m eight months pregnant. But I thought having a date night every week would be nice.”

“It would,” Derek says, coming up to him and placing his hands on Stiles’s hips. “More than nice. And how about I cook for us next time?”

“I’d like that,” Stiles smiles, and Derek can’t help but lean in and kiss him. “Now why don’t we sit down? I’m _starving_.”

The meal turns out to be Italian themed what with the salad and garlic bread and what turns out to be _beef lasagna_ for the main course. Stiles informs him that everything was made _from scratch_ including the bread and the noodles.

Derek is is amazed.

Honestly.

He can’t remember the last time someone did something for _him_ like this. Something to show that they loved him and cared for him and wanted him to have all sorts of nice things. It can’t have been anytime in the recent past.

The last person to do something specifically _for_ Derek just because they wanted to--and not because they wanted something in return--was probably Laura. And she’s been gone for _years_.

He looks at Stiles, sneaking glances at him while he shoves too big bites of bread in his mouth, and wonders how he got so lucky.

Because this is _amazing_.

Until, of course, Stiles informs him that he will _not_ be putting out on the first date.

“If you think that making me breakfast every morning is enough, then you’re surely mistaken,” Stiles says, the look on his face telling Derek just how much he’s enjoying this. “I say I wanted to be _wooed_ , Derek, and that’s what I’ll get.”

“I’ll make sure to step up my game,” Derek says dryly, even though he’s already thinking of a hundred different ways he could go about _wooing_ Stiles.

“We lost time,” Stiles murmurs. “We could have been doing this for about eight months now, but we didn’t because we were too oblivious to see what was right in front of us. So I want to enjoy this before the baby is born, when we can still have time only for each other.”

Derek’s face softens, heart melting in his chest. He can only imagine how hectic things will be once their son arrives, so he understands Stiles wanting to take advantage of the time they have now to, well, _date_. As much as they have gotten to know each other these months living together, being in a relationship changes their dynamic and that’s something they’ll have to learn as well, how they _work_ together now that they _are_ together.

So he gets his arms around Stiles’s waist and rubs their noses together, lips just an inch apart when he says, “I’ll woo the pants off of you,” and then kisses the smile right off of Stiles’s mouth.

* * *

If you’d asked Stiles a year ago if he could be the happiest he’s ever been all the while _not_ getting laid, he would have laughed in your face.

But now?

He’s fucking over the moon.

Because _yes_ , sex with Derek is amazing, but this? What they’re doing now, with the dates and the _talking_ and the constant affection is _so much better_.

The look of happiness and awe and _surprise_ on Derek’s face during their first dinner date just made _everything_ worth it.

Totally worth it.

Between all the sex they aren’t having and the dates they are, they talk about baby names.

Stiles stews over it for _days_.

What if he doesn’t need or _want_ Stiles’s input? What if Derek’s already got a name picked out?

Because it was _Derek’s_ baby boy long before it was _their_ baby boy.

Stiles can’t believe how _nervous_ he is the night he decides to actually bring it up. He really, really wants to have at least some sort of input in this and, what if Derek really has got a name picked out?

He steels himself as they get ready for bed, suddenly shy for what feels like the first time in front of Derek.

Not that he has anything to worry about, because Derek notices something’s up the moment Stiles sits down on the bed, fingers picking nervously at the hem of his sleepshirt.

“We’re not taking Finstock’s suggestion to play[ _Push It_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vCadcBR95oU)during labor,” Derek says, narrowing his eyes. “No matter how much you liked the idea.”

Stiles sputters, because even though that’s not what he wants to talk to Derek about he feels like they _should_ be having that conversation.

“Derek, I’m going to be _in pain_ ,” Stiles says, poking Derek in the chest. “As in, _the worst pain ever_ while I give birth to _our son_. The baby I _carried inside my body for nine months_. If I want us to play fucking _Push It_ , you bet your hot ass _we will_.”

Derek stares at him blankly for a couple of seconds before his lips twitch up, trying not to smile. “Hot ass?”

“Ugh,” Stiles groans, grabbing a pillow and hitting Derek in the face with it. “I don’t know why I love you.”

“It’s because of my hot ass,” Derek grins, picking up the pillow and hugging it to his chest.

He looks adorable.

Stiles kind of wants to punch him. Or maybe kiss him.

“I’m trying to have a serious conversation here,” Stiles reminds him.

Derek raises an eyebrow. “You mean when you sat down on the bed looking like something horrible happened and then said _nothing_?”

Stiles purses his lips together, giving Derek his best glare.

Derek’s unimpressed.

“Your daddy is being very mean to us today,” Stiles grumbles as he glances down at his bump, stroking his hand over it. “I hope this amount of sass isn’t genetic.”

When Stiles turns back to Derek it’s to see him with a warm look on his face, lips tipped up.

“I hope he looks just like you,” Derek says quietly, almost like he doesn’t want Stiles to hear him.

But Stiles does, his heart tripping over itself on his chest.

“He’s going to be an odd-looking kid if that happens,” Stiles jokes, shaking his head. “I didn’t get this hot until I started college. I was all pale skin, awkward flailing limbs, and _horrible_ spacial awareness.”

“That sounds hot to me,” Derek tells him, getting closer so he can kiss the corner of Stiles’s mouth. “And also not that different from what you look like right now.”

“You try having your entire center of gravity shift because you’re _creating a new life_ ,” Stiles huffs. “It’s not my fault I forget I’m the size of a planet and bump into things sometimes.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Derek says, rubbing his cheek against Stiles’s own.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles sighs, bringing a hand up to curl his fingers through Derek’s hair. “Can we have our talk now that you distracted me from feeling nervous?”

Stiles feels Derek press a smile against his skin before pulling back to stare at him. He knows Derek bringing up Finstock and the banter that followed was a way for Derek to get him out of his own head and to calm down. Well, it worked.

“We can,” Derek nods. “What do you want to talk to me about?”

Stiles bites his lip. “Well, I was just wondering. Did you— Have you already picked a name out? For yo— _Our_ son?” He curses inwardly at the slip. They haven’t referred to the baby as anything but _theirs_ for days now.

Derek doesn’t answer him immediately, though he does seem to adopt a thoroughly _shocked_ expression. Stiles suppresses the urge to continue talking. If left to his own devices, he would babble uncontrollably.

Finally, after what feels like _forever_ —though it was likely only a few moments—, Derek seems to take in his tense stance and expectant expression. He opens and closes his mouth several times before actually saying anything.

Just when Stiles thinks he’s going to burst from the anticipation, Derek speaks.

“I haven’t actually,” he says finally, softer than Stiles was expecting. “Thought of a name, that is.”

“Oh.” Stiles is kind of shocked, to be honest. “Really?”

Derek’s been so seemingly _prepared_ for everything surrounding this pregnancy to this point. Stiles can honestly say that he had not been expecting Derek to not have a list of names rated from ‘favorites’ to ‘ _no way in hell’_.

Derek makes a considering face, complete with a head tilt. Stiles will never say out loud how much that makes him look like a puppy, how _cute_ it makes Derek look.

“Really. It’s not something I’ve actively been thinking about?” Derek scoots closer to Stiles on the bed, curling an arm over Stiles’s belly and pulling him against Derek’s chest. Stiles doesn’t hesitate to initiate full on cuddling mode, slipping his head under Derek’s chin and nuzzling into his chest. “I guess I was kind of hoping it would just come to me one of these days? Or at least when I saw our son for the first time after he was born.”

Stiles is pretty sure his heart is doing actual _acrobatics_ in his chest right now. He also can’t help up grab Derek’s face and kiss the shit out of him for being _so damn cute_.

Stiles breaks the kiss before it gets too serious and leans back against Derek’s chest, his ear resting perfectly over Derek’s heart and his fingers curling under the hem of Derek’s shirt.

“Maybe I could help?” Stiles says after a couple moments of silence. “I would hate for the kid to end up with a monstrosity of a name like mine.”

They never really talked about it, but Stiles is aware Derek knows what his real name is from all the TOL paperwork they had deal with to go through with the surrogacy. Derek’s never tried calling him anything other than Stiles, though, something Stiles appreciates a lot more than he’ll ever admit.

Derek laughs, a happy grumbling noise that Stiles can feel against his cheek. “You can absolutely help. Do you have anything in mind?”

Stiles falters. This whole time he was thinking about whether he would get to name his son or not, and not actually coming up with any names. He sits up and faces Derek. “I don’t actually. I guess I was so caught up in wondering whether _you_ had that I didn’t really think about any names.”

Derek’s lips curl up in a fond smile and Stiles loves the way it makes the corners of Derek’s eyes crinkle. “Well, let’s think now. Anything come to mind?”

Stiles scrunches his nose up and thinks. The only thing that comes to mind though is, “Reginald.”

“Reginald. Really, Stiles?” Derek says, eyes widening.

Stiles crosses his arms and slumps against the headboard. “Not my fault, I watched _Suits_ all day today _and_ yesterday. It was the first name I thought of and this whole thing isa lot of pressure, okay?”

Derek leans over and places a kiss on Stiles’s jaw before laying his forehead against Stiles’s shoulder. Stiles brings his hand up almost immediately to curl his fingers in Derek’s thick hair. “Let’s shelf that one for now. Anything else come to mind?”

Stiles hums, lips curling up into a mischievous grin that Derek can’t actually see. “I’ve always liked the name Eric.”

Derek looks up at him incredulously. “Eric, Stiles? _Really?_ ”

Stiles adopts a serious expression and nods at Derek. “It’s got a nice ring to it, _I_ think.”

“No,” Derek says, shaking his head.

“But it’s a good name!”

“I already had to deal with my sisters being named Laura and Cora, and my mom and cousin Talia and Malia,” Derek tells him, and Stiles has to hide his surprise at hearing Derek speak so freely about his family. “There’s no way I’m naming my son _Eric_.”

“But that way you’ll uphold family tradition!” Stiles tries again. “I’d say we could go with _my_ family tradition, but that’d involve calling our son some unpronounceable name, so I don’t think so.

“Not Eric,” Derek says, leaving no room for argument.

Stiles sticks his tongue out at him. “You’re no fun.”

Derek rolls his eyes _hard_ at that. If there were a gold medal for extreme eye rolling it would be Derek’s, hands down. “Well, then, I like the name _Miles_. I think we should name our son Miles Stilinski-Hale.”

And, well.

Stiles is speechless.

BecauseDerek said _Stilinski-Hale_. Despite recent love confessions, Stiles never in a million years would have thought of this kid as anything but a _Hale_.

And here is Derek, saying he wants their son to have a little part of Stilinski, too, like it’s no big deal. And it must not be for him, but for Stiles? _It’s huge_.

But even more than that...

“Oh my god, _Miles!_ ” Stiles is pretty sure he’s hyperventilating at this point. He’s also pretty sure the smile he has on his face is so big it must make him look deranged.

And Derek looks torn. On the one hand he seems concerned for Stiles’s well being and on the other, he seems to be regretting all the life decisions he’s made that have led him to this point.

“Tell me—,” Stiles chokes out finally between gasping breaths. “Tell me you know who Miles Morales is.”

Derek’s look turns indulgent then. “If I say yes, can we forget I said anything? I don’t actually want to name our son after Spider-Man. Even if it _does_ rhyme with your name”

“But Derek!” Stiles cries out “It’s _such a good name_.”

“Not happening.”

Stiles pretends to wipe a tear from under his eye. “I guess that’s okay. Just your knowledge of Marvel superheroes is going to have to be enough for me, baby.”

Derek breathes out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “What about Jonathan?”

Stiles tilts his head to the side, considering. “As in Adler?”

Derek rolls his eyes again, but actually looks a little pleased that Stiles made that reference. “Not exactly. More like ‘as in an actual possibility for our son’.”

Stiles considers it. “I think we should put that on the ‘maybe’ list.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t know we had a ‘maybe’ list.”

“We do now!” Stiles says, nodding emphatically. “And Jonathan is the first one on it!”

Derek smiles then, slow and sweet and _pleased_. “Your turn to come up with something.”

Stiles pretends to consider for a second. “What about Tony?”

Derek narrows his eyes but Stiles keeps going.

“Or perhaps Bruce?” Stiles scrunches his eyebrows together and acts like he’s thinking hard. “I quite like Phil as well. And Parker. Maybe Clint.”

Derek opens his mouth, but before he can actually say anything, Stiles continues. “I also like James. Always have. And Henry even though it’s associated with that crazy king who killed all his wives.”

Stiles shuts his mouth then, turning expectantly to Derek and miming zipping up his lips.

Derek tangles his fingers with Stiles before looking up at him seriously. “How many of those were real suggestions?”

Stiles gapes at him, looking offended. “All of them. If I had to pick favorites though I’d say James or Parker.”

Derek nods, mouthing the names to himself. “I think we can put both those on the ‘maybe’ list. What do you think about Hunter? ”

Stiles lets out a snort before he can stop himself. “You want to name a werewolf cub _Hunter_? I _totally_ approve. That’s definitely going on the ‘maybe’ list.”

Derek rolls his eyes _again_. “Not exactly where I was going with that, Stiles.”

Stiles give him a shit eating grin but absolutely refuses to feel chastised.  

“What about Jacob?” Derek suggests.

Stiles blanches. “A werewolf baby named Jacob? Never. I refuse. We might as well name him Bella.”

Derek shakes his head. “You don’t know that he’s going to be a ‘wolf Stiles. It’s 50-50 at this point.”

Stiles shrugs. “Either way, Jacob is a no for me.”

“So we’re down to Jonathan, James, Parker, and Hunter? Right?” Derek says then, still smiling softly as though he’s _thrilled_ with the direction this conversation is headed.

Stiles leans over to place a soft, chaste kiss on his lips before he nods, rubbing his cheek against Derek’s. “That’s what we have so far.”

That’s not only what they end up with, though, as the days go by.

Between Stiles insisting on being wooed and Derek trying to come up with ways to make that happen, they keep discussing names, every once in a while stopping what they’re doing to say one out loud.

They end up adding Nathan and Noah to the ‘maybe’ list, along with Drew, William, and Oliver.

And also Steve, on a momentous occasion when they are both cuddling on the couch watching _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_ and Derek agrees that maybe considering Marvel names wouldn’t be so bad.

That’s one of those times where Stiles has to bite down on his bottom lip not to burst with happiness, entire body light as he looks at Derek. Stiles doesn’t stop himself from leaning in and kissing him, though, soft and sweet and until they’re both breathless.

Stiles still sometimes wonders how this is his life—how he has _Derek_ and their future son, and how he got to this place.  

He’s so _very_ lucky.

Something he tells Derek as they turn of the light and get ready for bed, curling close to one another like they have for _days_ now.

Derek just snuggles closer, kissing Stiles on the nose and cheek and jaw and forehead.

“ _I’m_ the lucky one,” Derek whispers, like it’s a secret. “I _never_ thought I would get to have all this.”

“Well, you do,” Stiles says, just as quietly. “And I’m not letting you go.”

Stiles feels Derek’s smiling against his skin, Derek’s breath ghosting over his temple. “Love you, Stiles.”

“Love you, too,” Stiles says, and he can’t help but smile back.

* * *

The night after Derek and Stiles end up discussing baby names turns out the be the day that is Derek’s turn to plan a date. Which, of course, he has no _idea_ how to do.

He’s never done this before.

When he was with Kate it was always a matter of her telling him where to be and when.

And that’s something he doesn’t really want to think about because this is _Stiles_ and he’s everything Derek has ever wanted and everything he never thought he could have.

It’s nothing like he’s ever had before.

Which means he needs to call in the reinforcements.

He talks to Lydia and Scott about Stiles’s favorite foods and if any of his favorite places around the city are pregnant people friendly. He also enlists Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and Kira’s help, sending them around New York to buy the necessary ingredients for dinner and getting dessert from that bakery Stiles loves so much.

They’re all only too happy to help. Derek’s pack is _ecstatic_ over his new, stable relationship status and Lydia and Scott don’t mind helping at all. They’ve both become quite comfortable around Derek since the day he and Stiles announced that they were officially together—they often come around the apartment and dropping by unannounced more often than not.

Derek still doesn’t know how he feels about that. Because as glad as he is that they all like each other enough to feel comfortable having that kind of familiarity, there’s going to come a time when Stiles decides he’s been thoroughly wooed and greenlights sex again. He doesn’t want either Scott or Lydia walking into them having sex.

They not only tell him Stiles’s favorite foods, restaurants, and activities, but also all sorts of small details that Derek knows could never have come from anyone else.

When everything is done and planned, he’s pretty sure that his night is going to be as big a hit as Stiles’s dinner date was.

It’s a Saturday so they both wake up leisurely. It’s the only day that Derek doesn’t wake up at the crack of dawn to get in his workout, meaning that he wakes up to soft butterfly kisses across his cheeks and jaw—Stiles’s patented wake up call for the days he’s up before Derek.

“Morning,” Derek says, without opening his eyes.

Stiles’s answer is to keep placing kisses all over Derek’s face, one of his hands coming up to brush Derek’s hair back. Derek leans into the touch, lips curling up.

“You look like a puppy when you do that,” Stiles teases, tracing a finger against the shell of Derek’s ear. “If I scratch your belly, will your leg kick?”

“It’d kick you out of the bed, maybe,” Derek grumbles, pressing his face against the pillow.

“You’d never,” Stiles says, and Derek doesn’t need to look at him to know he’s grinning. “Want me to bring you breakfast? I made an extra bowl of sliced fruit this morning.”

“Please.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, tugging at Derek’s hair once before letting go. “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” Derek says, finally opening his eyes and lifting his head up to look at Stiles.

“What?” Stiles raises an eyebrow at him.

Derek just tilts his chin up, silently asking for a kiss.

Stiles complies, pecking him quick on the lips before getting up and waddling to the kitchen.

Derek eats in bed with Stiles sitting by his side, enjoying the way Stiles’s cheeks flush whenever he brings one of his fingers to his mouth to suck the juice coating it.

“What time are Scott and Kira stopping by?” Derek asks, popping an apple slice into his mouth.

“In a couple of hours,” Stiles tells him, stealing a grape from Derek’s bowl. “I wonder if Kira’s dad is going to be happy to see me.”

It isn’t exactly easy for Stiles to move around this far into the pregnancy, so that means he’s been apartment bound for most of the time. Something Derek knows he doesn’t really like. As much fun as Stiles can have watching shows on Netflix and trying to write his book, it gets boring after a while.

So when Scott and Kira asked Stiles if he wanted to go out today, he was quick to accept. Derek thinks he’s never seen Stiles say yes to something so fast.

One thing Stiles doesn’t know, though, is that they did it at Derek’s suggestion, all so he could have time to prepare the apartment for the date tonight. Hopefully Stiles being at the bookshop after so long and actually getting to spend time _outside_ will give Derek enough time to get everything ready.

“I’m sure he will,” Derek says, scooping the final slices with his fingers. “Anyone would miss you.”

“Oh, boo,” Stiles cooed, cupping Derek’s face between his hands and squeezing his cheeks together. “You’re so in love with me.”

Derek shrugs, not saying anything while his cheeks are smooshed together.

“It’s really endearing,” Stiles reassures him, placing a kiss on Derek’s lips. “Especially because I love you back.”

“Lucky me,” Derek huffs, wrapping his fingers around Stiles’s wrists and pulling his hands down. “You need help getting dressed?”

“Only with my shoes,” Stiles sighs.

Derek runs a hand over Stiles’s hair, knowing it bothers him that he can’t bend over and put his shoes on by himself.

“You showered?”

“Yes,” Stiles bats his lashes. “Can’t you scent how good I smell?”

“You always smell good to me,” Derek says without meaning to, feeling the tips of his earn turn red when Stiles beams at him.

“You know, none of your Betas believe me when I tell them what a sap you are,” Stiles says, eyes soft.

“Good,” Derek says. “Let’s keep it that way.”

They spend the next two hours until Scott and Kira arrive doing absolutely nothing.

Stiles drags a chair into the bathroom while Derek showers, spending the entire time raking his eyes over Derek’s naked body, his sweet cinnamon scent turning so thick Derek almost chokes on it. Not that he lets Derek do anything about it.

“Just because we’re not having sex doesn’t mean I don’t get to appreciate how good you look,” Stiles tells him, licking his lips, eyes a little glazed over.

Derek turns the water from hot to cold.

He also makes sure to drop his towel once he’s out of the shower and in their room—Stiles follows behind him and flops down on the bed, lips parting as he watches. He also bends over to put on his boxers, his ass right into Stiles’s line of sight, lips forming a smirk when he hears Stiles’s sharp intake of breath.

Stiles retaliates by spreading his legs as far as they can go when Derek is helping him tie his shoes, pulling his shirt up and stroking his fingers over his bump. Derek almost chokes on his tongue.

And he doesn’t get the chance to tease him back, cursing under his breath when the doorbell rings.

Stiles grins, looking all kinds of smug. He still kisses Derek on the nose when Derek offers his hands to help pull him up.

Kira is the first one to hug him when Derek opens the door, her hair tickling his chin.

“We’ll keep him occupied,” Kira whispers. “Dad was complaining about how calm the store’s been. I’m sure he’d love having Stiles around for an afternoon”

“Thanks,” Derek says, kissing the side of her head.

Kira winks at him before bounding off to Stiles, saying, “You need to show me the nursery. I only got to see it half-finished.”

Stiles perks up, looking all kinds of excited as he leads her further into the apartment, all the while talking about what a wonderful job Derek did with it.

“Hey, man,” Scott says, pulling Derek into a hug.

“Scott.”

“You have everything ready for today?” Scott asks when he pulls back, leaving a hand resting on Derek’s shoulder.

“You know I do,” Derek says, smiling a little.

“He’s gonna love this, you know?” Scott tells him, expression warm. “No one’s ever done anything like this for him before.”

Derek tempers down how _pleased_ he feels at knowing that, but he thinks Scott can tell.

“He deserves it,” is all Derek says.

“Lydia offered to help if you need more time setting things up,” Scott says quietly. “She said she can bring Dawn along. That’ll give you at least an extra hour if you need it.”

“I’ll let you know,” Derek promises.

“Okay,” Scott grins. “Now show me where my nephew’s gonna be living.”

They spend about half an hour in the nursery, Stiles showing Kira and Scott around and telling them all about how much he loves it. Derek leans against the door, arms crossed over his chest, smiling as he watches the three of them.

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s shoulders before he leaves, kissing him soundly on the lips.

“Don’t miss me too much,” Stiles says, rubbing their noses together. “I promise I’ll be back.”

“I’ll wait for you,” Derek mumbles, kissing him again. “But now, go have fun. I know you miss walking around without me hovering.”

“I like your hovering,” Stiles says, wrinkles his nose. “You know, sometimes.”

“When it gets me to do stuff for you, you mean,” Derek says dryly.

“You get it,” Stiles smiles, eyes crinkling. “It’s like we were meant for each other.”

“Yeah,” Derek breathes out. “Looks like.”

Scott and Kira wave him goodbye, and as soon as they’re out the door with Stiles, Derek gets to working.

And by that he means he gets to build a _huge_ blanket fort out of the den—or their living room, really.

He has to keep in mind that Stiles is nearingt the end of his pregnancy, so moving around is something that gets a bit complicated sometimes. That means that making a fort on the floor is out of the question.

Derek needs to get _creative_.

Which is something he can definitely do.

He’s an architect. Building a blanket fort for his pregnant boyfriend shouldn’t be a problem.

And, oh.

Derek can’t help the way he starts smiling at that.

Because this is what he and Stiles are now.

They’re together.

Derek spends far longer staring at his living room layout than he probably should. In the end, he ends up with blankets and pillows covering every inch of the couch and coffee table—almost like they’ve got another bed in their living room. He piles an extra set of throw blankets around the arms of the sofa, intensifying the feeling of a ‘nest’.

He decides that they need a ‘tent’ of sorts as well and unplugs the two tall lamps in the room to put on either side of the sofa. He takes out the light bulbs to ensure that they’re no longer a fire hazard before draping a thin sheet over the two lamps covering the sofa and part of the table. The fort looks kind of shaky, but it’ll do.

He also grabs all of those he knows are Stiles’s favorite movies, from the _Star Wars_ original trilogy to all of the _Harry Potter_ films and also some _Disney_ movies while he’s at it. He knows they won’t be able to watch it all in one night, but at least this way Stiles gets to pick of out those he likes most.

He sets up Christmas lights around the living room. He first thought about going with candles, but having so many of them around a _blanket fort_ was like asking for something bad to happen. The small lights give a white glow to the room, just enough so they can see where everything is.

When all of that is done he starts on cooking all of Stiles’s favorite foods—curly fries and lean turkey burgers, spaghetti and meatballs, mac and cheese with bacon bits and chocolate, vanilla _and_ mint chocolate chip milkshakes. He also has the fixings for nachos in the fridge, assuming Stiles has room for them. They probably also won’t be able to eat it all, but Derek figures he can give the leftovers to Scott and Kira as a thank you for helping him out today.

He spreads all the food out inside the fort, along with bowls of Stiles’s favorite candies. Everything is carefully set up to the side, so that in the middle Derek can build a little nest of more blankets and pillows on top of the couch for him and Stiles to relax on.

Derek has to say he’s pretty proud of himself when he sees the end result.

He takes another shower and changes into a plum colored henley with the top buttons unbuttoned and a pair of old, thin sweats with no underwear—if Stiles is going to flaunt his body then Derek sure as hell is going to as well. When he’s ready, he sends a quick text to Scott letting him know everything is ready to go at the apartment.

**From Scott:** _cool we’ll be there soon_

**From Scott:** _stiles wanted to come back hours ago so kira and i had to bring out the big guns_

**From Scott:** _the big guns are dawn_

**From Scott:** _but_ _even then he still looked kinda sad we were keeping him out_

**From Scott:** _he misses you a lot its cute_

Derek shakes his head down at his phone. Hopefully Stiles won’t be upset when he gets here and sees why Scott and Kira kept him away from the apartment.

It takes them about thirty minutes to get to the apartment, Derek getting increasingly nervous as he waits. He’s sure Scott can hear his rapid heartbeat from the hallway once the elevator stops on his floor.

He dries his sweaty palms against his pants, throat tight as he hears Stiles say goodbye to Kira and Scott, the sound of his keys jingling as he opens the door.

Derek’s waiting by the door when Stiles walks in, and Derek is not that surprised when Stiles goes straight for him, arms snaking around his waist.

“This was a stupid plan,” he says, voice muffled by Derek’s chest and nose rubbing against Derek’s sternum. “Why didn’t I go hang out with Scott and Kira on a day that you work? We only get two full days together a week and I just wasted one. All I could think about _all day_ was you here all _alone_ and I hated it. Never again. I refuse.”

Derek chuckles, something he rarelyused to do before but seems to do nearly every day since Stiles came back from California, and kisses Stiles’s temple. “I kept myself busy.”

Stiles groans and looks up at Derek from under his lashes. “God, Derek, tell me you didn’t just sit here and _work_ all day. That’s just depressing.”

Derek leans down to peck him on his cheek and once more on his lips. “I did do some work, but I doubt it’s the sort you’re thinking of.”

He curls his arm around Stiles’s waist and leads him over to the living room, wolf absolutely _glowing_ in pride when Stiles’s mouth literally drops open in awe.

“What— What is— Did you do this for _me_?” Stiles’s voice is surprised, his eyes wide and pink mouth gaping.

Derek watches him and Stiles looks around theset-up in the living room, lips moving as if he wants to say something but can’t find the words.

“You like it?” Derek asks quietly, rubbing a hand up and down Stiles’s back.

Stiles makes a choked up noise and grabs Derek’s hand, threading their fingers together.

“Show me what you did,” Stiles says just as soft. “Please.”

So Derek does, leading Stiles around the room anddescribing every little thing that he did for their date tonight.

Stiles takes in everything with eager eyes, especially lighting up at the new DVDs Derek bought, gaze lingering on the brand new _Star Wars_ Blu-ray boxed set.

And when Derek settles him on the couch with a milkshake, Stiles doesn’t hesitate to pull Derek down next to him and snuggle against him, every point of their bodies in contact with one another.

Stiles nuzzles against Derek’s shoulder as he pulls up the play station menu, whispering that this is _amazing_ and that he can’t wait to do it _again_ with their son.

“And maybe,” Stiles says, eyes shining with what looks like happy tears, “One day there will be _multiple_ little feet running around their living room blanket fort.”

And Derek—

Derek’s been so caught up in Stiles and _this_ pregnancy that he never imagined, never dared to even think about having _more children_.

Something, he realizes suddenly, that he actually _really_ wants. His son should absolutely have brothers or sisters, should have as big a pack as possible, especially considering how much Derek loved having a big family, a big _pack_ around when he was a child. He still hurts at knowing his son won’t ever get to meet them.

Derek nuzzles his nose into the spot where Stiles’s jaw meets his neck and places two soft kisses there before meeting Stiles's expectant gaze. “That would be good,” he manages to say finally, voice shaking with emotion.

Stiles hums contentedly and snuggles back under Derek’s arm, flipping through the DVDs in his lap and eliminating certain discs here and there. Just when Derek thinks Stiles has settled on the first _Star Wars_ movie, Stiles tosses it aside in favor of _Bambi_.

Derek realizes it’s probably a bad choice the minute he gets a hold of it, but under Stiles’s expectant gaze, places the disc in the play station anyways. He’s proven right when, not even a full ten minutes into the movie, Stiles starts tearing up.

Only to, about five minutes later, start all out bawling.

Derek leaps up to change the disc, putting in the first one he gets his hands on which turns out to be _The Little Mermaid._

They make it through that one just fine—with Stiles singing along to _Kiss the Girl_ and turning his head to demand kisses from Derek—,so Derek continues with the princess theme for the next couple movies. He grabs _Beauty and the Beast_ next—it was Laura’s favorite—and brings over the reheated spaghetti and meatballs for them to eat while they watch.

The curly fries get brought out during _Frozen_ and watching Stiles stuff his mouth while singing along is probably an image Derek could’ve lived without.

Stiles falls asleep halfway through _Tangled_ , curled up in the blankets and sheets with a small smile on his face. Derek’s heart clenches in his chest, going a million miles an hour all of a sudden.

Derek curls protectively around Stiles then, and watches him sleep until _he_ falls asleep to the sound of his, Stiles’s, and their son’s heartbeat.

* * *

Stiles thinks he’s going out of his mind.

Which is the opposite of what he was expecting to happen after he told Derek he wanted to be wooed.

He has to admit he shot himself in the foot with that one, because banning Derek from having sex with him meant banning _himself_ from having sex with Derek. And Stiles _loves_ having sex with Derek.

Like, a lot.

And it doesn’t help that Derek started _teasing_ him. With working out in front of Stiles without his shirt on, all sweaty skin and muscles rippling; getting out of the shower naked, with the towel draped over his shoulders instead of wrapped around his waist; wearing the _tightest_ jeans and shirts he can find, clothing stretching over his thighs and ass and chest and arms _perfectly._

Stiles kind of wants to die.

He thinks he will, soon, out of sheer sexual frustration.

And he doesn’t have anyone to blame but himself.

He was the one who instituted the sex ban, so he’s the one who’s gonna have to deal with—

He’s the one who instituted the sex ban. _Which means_ , he’s the one who can put an end to it.

And that’s exactly what he does, as he marches into Derek’s office and announces, “Derek, I’m lifting the sex ban.”

“I— _What_?” Derek asks, startled, eyes widening as he stares up at Stiles.

“The lack of sex,” Stiles says, waving a hand in the air. “I’m done with it. You’ve been nothing but amazing catering to my _ridiculous_ idea of wooing without any of the sexy benefits, so consider the sex strike over.”

Derek blinks up at him, looking at a loss for words. He’s still holding one of his pencils in mid-air, his other hand splayed over one of the blueprints he was working on.

“Okay, if you’re just going to stare at me and not say anything, I’ll take care of this myself,” Stiles says matter of factly, and shifts so that he’s directly in Derek’s line of sight.

He does so by curling his fingers around the red shirt he’s wearing and pulling it up and over his head. Or at least trying to. He’s not that successful when he accidentally ends up with his arms stuck in the sleeves, the fabric covering his head. And it seems that the more he struggles with it, the worse it gets.

“Derek, help,” Stiles whines.

He hears a snort and the drag of a chair against the floor as Derek gets up, and a second later there are warm hands against his sides.

Before actually helping Stiles, though, Derek ducks under Stiles’s stretched out shirt to claim his lips in a bruising kiss, effectively tangling Stiles in his shirt even _more_ as he attempts to bring his hands around Derek’s neck.

“Stop that,” Stiles says against Derek’s lips. “We’re gonna end up trapped under here and suffocate to death.”

“We won’t,” Derek says, nipping at Stiles’s bottom lip. “I can use my claws if we need to.”

Stiles pulls back at that, or at least tries to, yelling out, “You’re _not_ destroying my shirts!”

Before Stiles even finishes his exclamation, he’s freed and the shirt is on tatters on the floor. Derek is smiling sheepishly up at him, looking not even a _little_ guilty.

“Sorry?”

Stiles narrows his eyes at him. “You are _so not_.”

Derek grins back. “You’re right. I’m not.”

Before Stiles knows what’s happening, he finds the ground shifting underneath him and, oh—

Well, apparently, he’s being carried bridal style to his and Derek’s bedroom.

He could totally get behind this.

He leans over to mouth at Derek’s collarbones, getting out one word at a time between nips, “I...think...you...should...carry...me...around...like...this...every...single...day.”

He finishes just as Derek lays him gently down on their bed, kissing whatever part of Stiles he can reach as he says, “As you wish.”

“You are _not_ Westley,” Stiles chuckles against Derek’s lips. “First of all, you’re not cool enough. Second of all, you’d look _horrible_ with his Dread Pirate Roberts mustache.”

Derek doesn’t answer him, wasting no time joining Stiles on the bed, slotting himself right up against Stiles’s side, mouth never stopping placing small kisses against Stiles’s skin.  His  hands keep touching whatever bit of skin he can find, like Derek can’t get enough.

Derek licks and nips and sucks at a spot on Stiles’s neck incessantly, not bothering to stop until a mark blooms, bright and red against Stiles’s pale skin.

Stiles doesn’t know what he’s expecting next, but it sure isn’t Derek continuing on to mark Stiles up _everywhere_ —his collarbones, under his pec, around onto the small of his back, before moving down to Stiles’s inner thigh after he gets Stiles’s pants off.

The whole time Derek is murmuring about how he’s wanted to do this for _ever_ , has wanted to mark Stiles up absolutely _everywhere_ but hasn’t ever felt like it would be okay.  

And Stiles is just a _mess_ , unable to respond that _yes_ , this is _so okay_ and that he cannot put into _words_ how good Derek is making him feel, how good it feels to finally have this with Derek.

Before long, Derek is naked and Stiles is on his side with Derek slotted behind him, scissoring two fingers into his hole torturously slow. He continues this for what feels like _hours_ and Stiles kind of wishes he wasn’t this pregnant just so he could flip Derek on his back and get what he wants from him.

Stiles is actually kind of impressed Derek’s managing this whole _teasing Stiles until he begs_ thing. One would think Derek would want sex to happen as soon as it could, considering how against he’s been the sex ban.

But that’s not what happens, not at all.

Stiles feels delirious, like he’s going out of his mind and from _sex_. This has never happened to him before—he doesn’t know how to handle it. He feels like a _mess_ , like he’s sobbing and begging only to be _shushed_ by Derek.

Derek, who is spooning him, and holding Stiles against his chest and is fucking _everywhere_. He’s all Stiles can _smell_ and _feel_ and _see_ and it’s quite possibly _too much_.

And all Stiles can do is gasp wetly when Derek finally _finally_ presses inside him, his fingers curling against Derek’s arm, nails digging into Derek’s skin. And he gets lost in the slide of their bodies, the feel of Derek wrapped around him, in him, consuming him.

It doesn’t take long before Stiles feels himself close to coming, turning his head to the side so he can find Derek’s lips, cover them with his own, suck Derek’s tongue into his mouth. The brush of Derek’s fingers against one of his nipples and Derek’s other hand wrapping around his cock is what does it, Stiles’s back arching as he tips over the edge.

Derek keeps fucking into him as Stiles relaxes and his entire body goes pliant, and Stiles is so fucking _happy_ he gets to keep all of this for the rest of his life that he doesn’t stop himself from telling Derek as much, in between whispered words of _I love you_ and _c’mon baby_ and _Derek_.

Derek doesn’t knot him when he comes, knowing staying locked in one position for so long will be uncomfortable for him. But Derek doesn’t move away from him, or even pull out. They stay wrapped around each other, come coating their skins and drying the more time passes.

Stiles doesn’t care.

Actually, he thinks it’s perfect. And he suspects, by the way Derek keeps alternating between rubbing his hand over Stiles’s stomach and kissing the back of his neck, he’s thinking the exact same thing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the sex scene from this chapter is inspired by fan art that was inspired by this fic? (We know that sounds kinda confusing.) Either way, it’s [HERE](http://sterekhalinsk.tumblr.com/post/99272405380/so-like-a-little-mpreg-sterek-inspired-by-this) if you wanna check it out :). 
> 
> Next update: **Oct 24th, around 5pm EST.**


	17. When the levee breaks, mama, you got to move.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles knows it’s going to be over soon, and once it is he’s going to be a dad to the cutest baby in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up—there’s some lactation kink at the beginning of this chapter, so if that’s not your thing you might wanna skip down a bit (just ctrl +f or command +f ‘A couple days later ’, that’s the start of the next scene).
> 
> Chapter title from [When The Levee Breaks (Led Zeppelin)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fOEQTJV_3-w). And here’s the [Settle Down 'Verse Breakdown](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/sdch) in case you need it.
> 
> xoxo,
> 
> J & P

When Stiles agreed to do this—the whole surrogacy thing—and Scott reminded him just how uncomfortable pregnancy could be, Stiles never thought it’d be _this much_.

He’s nearing the end of his pregnancy, he looks like he swallowed a planet, and it _sucks_. From swollen ankles to back pains to his nipples suddenly becoming increasingly more sensitive, Stiles is certain he’s never been this miserable.

It’s hard for him to sit down, and once he’s sitting it’s close to impossible for him to stand back up. He can’t lay on his back or his stomach, and if he stays on one side too long, his arm cramps up. He pees what feels like _every five minutes_ and getting on and off the toilet is so difficult, he wonders if he should just stay there for the duration of his pregnancy.

It _sucks_ , okay?

The only two bright points in all of this are that Stiles knows it’s going to be over soon, and once it is he’s going to be a _dad_ to the cutest baby in the world. He refuses to believe it otherwise. Since, you know, this kid is going to be half Derek and Derek is about the most gorgeous person Stiles has ever seen.

It’s a good thing Stiles decided to lift the sex ban, because getting off with Derek is the one thing that _doesn’t_ suck right now. Well.

It _does_ suck sometimes, but not in a bad way.

Never in a bad way.

Derek’s mouth is _amazing_ , and Stiles loves having it all over him.

And _speaking of sucking_ , this new thing happened the other day when he and Derek were having sex—and _now_ , in addition to everything else, his shirts are constantly _soaked_.

Because as it turns out, male lactation? Could be a thing.

When they asked Deaton about it—because you bet Stiles called him as soon as he felt something wet trailing down his chest one morning after he woke up—, Stiles found out that it was _rare_ for male omegas to lactate, but not impossible. Deaton said he’d only ever seen a couple of other cases of human male omegas lactating, apparently the same wasn’t true for some pairs of supernatural creatures, so he wasn’t expecting for it to happen to Stiles.

But when has Stiles ever followed the norm?

So now this is a thing that he does apparently.

But that’s cool, he’ll just have to adapt.

He still wants to send very angry letters to all writers of pregnancy books for _never mentioning_ some human male omegas could produce milk for their babies, though, even if it’s a rare occurrence. The only reason he doesn’t is because Derek decides to distract him right as he’s reaching for his laptop.

And by distracting Stiles means Derek sliding a hand up his shirt and raking his nails over his chest until Derek’s fingers found one of Stiles’s nipples, squeezing lightly.

Stiles can honestly say he’ll never forget the way Derek’s nose twitches and his eyes darken _immediately_ when he feels the trickle of milk slide down Stiles’s chest. He’ll also never forget the shiver that goes through his whole body, breath hitching as Derek keeps on touching him.

Look at him, learning all kinds of new things about himself.

“Is this—,” Derek says, licking his lips. “Is it okay if I—?”

“Yeah,” Stiles breathes out, swallowing hard. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

He helps Derek lift his shirt up and over his head, settling back comfortably against the mountain of pillows on their bed. That means Derek has a perfect view of Stiles’s chest and bump, his hands following the paths his eye make as he takes in Stiles spread out in front of him.

Stiles tries not to squirm under Derek’s gaze. He suspects he’ll never get over the way Derek looks at him, like he can’t quite believe Stiles is there, that Stiles is _his_. Stiles has to say he wonders the same thing sometimes. It’s hard to think he’d ever get this lucky in life.

Stiles brings a hand up to card his fingers through Derek’s hair, lips curling up in a smile when Derek leans into the touch. For someone who’d been so hesitant to touch Stiles when they first met, now he revels in it, always wanting more.

Stiles is happy to give him what he wants.

Especially when that means _this_ , parting his lips when Derek surges up to kiss him, baring his throat when Derek moves to suck marks against his neck, arching his back when Derek starts trailing kisses down his chest.

The first touch of Derek’s mouth against his left nipple almost sends Stiles off the bed, the hot wet suction almost too much against his sensitive nipple.

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles gasps, his fingers tightening on Derek’s hair. “Fuck.”

Derek makes a soft little pleased sound at the back of his throat. His eyes are closed as he keeps lapping at Stiles’s chest, swallowing every last drop.

Stiles hisses when Derek lets go after another sharp suck, heart clenching when Derek nuzzles against his chest, rubbing his stubbled cheek over Stiles’s skin.

“Still okay?” Derek asks, blinking up at Stiles, eyes dark.

“I’d be better if you had your hand on my dick,” Stiles says shakily, tugging at Derek’s hair and trying to move him where he wants him.

Derek raises an eyebrow at him, lips twitching. “Oh, really.”

“Ugh,” Stiles groans. “Don’t start.”

Derek places a kiss over his heart in apology, lips ghosting over Stiles’s skin as he moves to his other nipple.

This time it’s even better, because Derek as soon as Derek starts mouthing at Stiles’s chest he gets one of his hands wrapped around Stiles’s cock, jacking him steadily.

Stiles eyes roll back in his head.

Because this is heaven right now.

Nevermind that he’s as big as a house and can’t even see Derek’s fingers wrapped around his dick, thumb swiping at the head, palm warm and tight around his shaft.

He can still _feel_ it, and Derek’s always been the best at taking care of him. From Stiles’s heat to the months that they’ve lived together to now, Derek’s always known just how to give Stiles what he needs.

And that, more than the feeling of Derek’s mouth and hands on him, is enough to make him come, spilling over Derek’s hand.

“You good?” Derek asks him after he’s done catching his breath, his eyes soft as he stares down at Stiles.

“I’m _fantastic_ ,” Stiles says honestly, feeling all loose and happy and sated. “Now let me take care of you.”

Stiles reaches for Derek, hands sliding up and down his chest. He stops when Derek grabs his wrists, though, frowning in confusion.

“It’s okay,” Derek says, ears and cheeks turning red. “I, uh, I already—”

Stiles blinks at him a couple of times before staring down at Derek’s crotch, face breaking into a smile when he sees the wet patch on his sweats

“This really does it for you, huh?” Stiles teases, pointing at his chest.

Derek blushes even more, if that’s even possible, ducking his head and refusing to meet Stiles’s eyes. “Shut up.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Stiles tells him, cupping Derek’s cheek. “Totally did it for me too, if the orgasm didn’t give you an idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Stiles huffs. “And not only that, but I’m actually feeling pretty comfortable right now. So, you know, be prepared to do it again in case that doesn’t last.”

Derek shakes his head at him and leans in to kiss him. “My pleasure.”

“I’ll say,” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows, laughing when Derek makes a face at him.

To no one’s surprise, Stiles starts feeling uncomfortable about five minutes after that. Derek tries his best to help, but it’s also not like they can keep having sex all the time. Stiles thinks that’s a shame.

When having sex with Derek Hale, _who wouldn’t_?

A couple days later is their week thirty-eight appointment and it’s _hot_ out, hotter than it _should be_ in September in New York.

Stiles is _already_ huge and uncomfortable and, on top of that, having to actually leave the sanctity of their air conditioned apartment is downright _taxing_.

He feels gross and sweaty by the time they reach TOL, and he hates it. He even hates the feel of Derek’s palm on the small of his back, something he _never_ thought he would resent.

It’s just that—

Well.

Derek’s a _werewolf._ Which normally Stiles is _all over_.

But it also means that Derek runs hot. Really hot.

Unfortunately, these days, Stiles is already too hot on his own. So, usually, he would love for Derek to be all over him, it’s just that right now he really can’t take it.

So between attempting to get comfortable in the shitty seat in Doctor Deaton’s waiting room and attempting to hold off having to go to the bathroom until later, he also has to put up with Derek’s kicked puppy look.

Derek’s been sporting it almost non stop since that morning and Stiles feels bad about it, he _does_. But at the same time, he’s a little irritated that Derek just doesn’t fucking get it.

He loves Derek, Derek has to know he does, and this doesn’t change anything.

He just needs to _not be_ _touched_ right now.

Also, he needs his kid to pop out already.

 _Please_.

* * *

 

Derek totally understands, okay?

He was nine when his dad was pregnant with Cora, he remembers how crazy he was. He remembers his father constantly snapping at Laura for being too loud while he was resting and at Derek for hovering.

He gets that Stiles is uncomfortable.

He also realizes, on some level, that Stiles doesn’t really mean much of what he says. He definitely knows he shouldn’t be taking anything personally at this point. It just catches him off guard when Stiles goes from feeling perfectly happy and content one day to grumpy and uncomfortable the next.

Kind of like what happens when they stop by TOL the day before their appointment with Deaton to talk to Marin and Braeden about dissolving the surrogacy contract.

Stiles had mentioned one night a couple days ago that in the eyes of the law that he technically had no claim over baby Stilinski-Hale. He couldn’t even be on the birth certificate.  

And, well. There was no way Derek was going to accept that. He’d called the very next morning to set up an appointment with Braeden.

“This is really happening, isn’t it?” Stiles asks, bouncing his knees up and down as they sit in the waiting room.

“Yes,” Derek says, grasping Stiles’s hand in his and entwining their fingers together. “We should have done it sooner.”

‘We’re doing it now, though,” Stiles says, turning to him and smiling brightly. “Really making this baby ours.”

“He’s always been ours,” Derek murmurs, bringing his free hand to stroke Stiles’s bump.

Stiles’s smile softens, and he leans in to brush their lips together. “Thanks for making it official, though. Or making it so we can _make it_ official by putting me in the birth certificate.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” Derek tells him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Stiles kisses him again, slow and sweet, and rubs their noses together when pulls back.

“Mr. Hale? Mr. Stilinski?”

Derek twists his head to the side to see both Marin and Braeden staring at them, identical amused smiles on their faces. He can feel the tips of his ears flushing when he realizes they must have seen him and Stiles kissing.

“Should we step into the office?” Marin asks, tilting her head to the side.

“Sure,” Derek says, clearing his throat.

He helps Stiles up, leading him with a hand on the small of his back.

Braeden catches his eye and raises an eyebrow when they enter the office, smirking when Derek blushes even harder.

“So you asked for a meeting?” Braeden takes the empty chair by Marin’s side, directly in front of Derek. “I assume everything is okay with the two of you?”

“Yes,” Stiles nods, glancing at Derek and smiling. “Better than.”

Derek can’t help but smile back. It’s it’s his only response when Stiles looks at him like that, so happy his eyes are shining.

“I see,” Marin and Braeden say at the same time.

Derek fails not to find that kind of creepy.

“We were here because we wanted to talk about the surrogacy contract,” Derek explains, resting a hand on Stiles’s knee and squeezing it. “We’d like to dissolve it.”

“Is that so?” Marin asks.

“Yes,” Stiles says, quickly but firmly. “The nature of our relationship has changed over the past nine months. We’ve discussed this, and what we’d like is to raise our baby together, to _be_ together.  Unfortunately, the surrogacy contract we have with the agency is preventing us from doing that. We are both on the same page here, so we were hoping we could maybe make the contract, well, not disappear, but just, you know, not be valid anymore?”

Marin and Braeden just stare at them for a few seconds, considering. A few seconds in which Derek thinks his heart might burst out of his chest.

That is, until Braeden smiles and says, “I believe that can be arranged.”

Derek doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the way little hitch on Stiles’s breath when they finally do dissolve the contract, with Marin and Braeden’s help. Stiles looks so _overcome_ with joy it’s like he doesn’t know what to do with it, and Derek finds himself right there with him.

Because that’s it.

That makes it official. Their baby is _theirs_. Derek’s and Stiles’s. _Together._

The evening after they get home from meeting Marin and Braeden, nothing can get Stiles down. He flits—read: waddles, but Derek isn’t going to tell him that—around the apartment, happy and laughing and _dancing_ at one point. He lets Derek cuddle him and coddle him and they sit curled up on the couch for _hours_ talking about their plans for the future.

The next day, however, is not a good one.

It’s partly Derek’s fault—he knew they were staying up too late for Stiles, but he couldn’t bring himself to send Stiles to bed. Not when he was so happy.

He should’ve known better. Because the next morning Stiles is cranky.

And with crankiness comes the insults and jabs and little quips that Derek tries his best not to feel hurt about. Because he knows Stiles doesn’t mean it, that he’s just letting his bad mood get the best of him.

But, still.

He wishes there was something he could _do._

Right now he’s just standing back and letting Dr. Deaton and Stiles talk about methods to make Stiles more comfortable and really, Derek just wants to grit his teeth in frustration.

Deaton continues to be of no help to them, repeating things they already know and ensuring them that what Stiles is feeling is completely normal for this stage in his pregnancy.

Deaton continues to tell them to massage Stiles’s ankles and rub his back and feed him herbal teas, all of which Derek _already knows thank you very much_ , and Derek starts to wonder what exactly the point of this appointment is.

“I know it might seem like I’m only telling you things you already know,” Deaton says, giving Derek a pointed look. Maybe Derek wasn’t as good at not letting his frustration show as he thought. “But there’s only so much we can do at this stage of the pregnancy. It’s a waiting game, and nothing is going to happen until your son is ready to be born.”

“I hope he doesn’t take long,” Stiles sighs, stroking his stomach. “I miss being able to see my feet.”

Derek silently agrees but keeps his mouth shut, not knowing how receptive Stiles will be to whatever he says right now.

Deaton gives them a sympathetic smile. “Why don’t I go grab some pamphlets for you? You might find something you haven’t tried before.”

“Oh, yes please,” Stiles says, nodding.

Deaton leaves the room then and as soon as the door shuts behind him, Stiles lets out a large groan, slumping down on the exam table with his eyes closed, arms crossed over his bump, and mouth set in a scowl.

“This is so pointless. Why are we even here?” he says finally, not even bothering to look at  Derek. “There is nothing that we have been told today that we didn’t already know. You dragged me out of bed for _no reason_ and I do not appreciate it.”

Derek has to bite his cheek and stare very hard at the ceiling to keep from rolling his eyes at Stiles. “Like you would’ve ever missed a doctor’s appointment. All I did was prevent us from being _late_. I took the day off of work for this, there was no way we were staying at home.”

Stiles looks at him crossly, “I am perfectly capable of reaching places on time, Derek. I don’t need you to babysit me. You should just go on to work then, if that’s so important to you.”

“This isn’t me babysitting you,” Derek snaps. “But _you’re_ the most important person in my life. You and our son. Excuse me if I worry about you two and want to make sure everything’s going okay.”

“ _You did this to me_ ,” Stiles hisses. “If something _isn’t okay_ then it’s _your fault_.”

And Derek—

Derek’s angry.

But Stiles _does_ look awfully uncomfortable as he shifts on the exam table trying to find a position to sit in that isn’t hard on his back.

And while Derek _is angry,_ he also wants to make Stiles feel better. Because watching Stiles hurting hurts _him_.

So that’s why he says, completely seriously, “Maybe when Deaton comes back we should ask him if he can deliver a baby that’s half werewolf and half _pure evil_.”

Silence follows Derek’s statement, and for a second Derek thinks he really fucked up when all Stiles does is stare at him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

But _then_ , Stiles’s lips twitch minutely up, almost like he’s trying his hardest not to smile. “Don’t try to be cute and quote _Friends_ at me when I’m angry at you.”

“You never stay angry with me anyway,” Derek says, grinning. “It’s a moo point. It’s like a cow’s opinion; it doesn’t matter. It’s moo.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles bursts out laughing. “That’s awful. You started with the dad jokes already. Is this what I have to look forward too? Bad quotes from TV shows?”

“Welcome to the real world,” Derek says. “It sucks. You’re gonna love it!”

Stiles starts laughing again, loud and bright and with his entire body. He reaches for Derek, pulling him as close as he can.

“Isn’t this the most amazing fight you’ve ever had?” Stiles asks, kissing Derek on the nose, lips, cheeks.

“Yes, it is,” Derek murmurs, rubbing their noses together. “How you doin’?”

Stiles shakes his head, giggling as he nuzzles into Derek’s chest and bites at his collarbone through his shirt. “Okay, stop now, please.”

Derek bends down to place kisses wherever he can reach—Stiles’s temple and the tip of his nose and along his jaw. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Stiles says, kissing him again.

And just like that, things are good again.

* * *

 

You know, until Stiles’s water breaks.

Right there.

In Dr. Deaton’s exam room.

Just from having Derek kiss him and tell Stiles that he loves him.

Derek’s lips are on his and Derek’s tongue is his mouth and he’s clutching at Derek’s shirt trying to pull him closer when suddenly—

He doesn’t even know how to describe it.

It’s kind of like he just peed himself, but a little different. And it’s _a lot_ of water. Just coming out of him. And he can do absolutely nothing to stop it.

Stiles looks between the wet spot on the front of his pants to Derek’s incredulous, shocked expression several times, too awed to actually _do_ anything.

Finally he grabs Derek’s cheeks between his hands and looks at him excitedly, “You’re magic!”

Because apparently all their son needed to come out was to be reassured one more time that his parents were in love with each other. And maybe that says something about how irritable and snappish Stiles and Derek had been with each other these past few days.

“You’re—,” Derek starts, making a choked up noise as he stares at Stiles’s wet pants.  “This is—”

“We’re having our baby!” Stiles yells, breathless with relief.

Only for that to be cut short when Derek goes from looking awed to looking totally and completely _panicked_ , his face paling and eyes widening and throat working as he tries to swallow.

Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever seen Derek this scared, and he was present when Erica asked him if she could try plucking his eyebrows during one of their many pack sleepovers. According to Erica, doing each others nails, and hair, and _eyebrows_ was a sleepover must. Stiles had ended up with a perfect pedicure and styled hair, but somehow Derek had managed to evade Erica’s tweezers.

It was a good night.

“We’re having our baby,” Derek whispers, his hands finding Stiles’s bump and stroking it softly. “We’re— He’s _coming_. We’re— We need _help_.”

Stiles watches helplessly as Derek gets up from the chair like it’s on fire, not even noticing it falling backwards and to the floor as he springs to the door. He wrenches the door open with so much force Stiles hears something crack, and next thing he knows Derek’s sticking his head outside.

“We need a nurse!” Derek screams, and Stiles can hear a growl behind his words. “ _Now_!”

“Hey, Der—,” Stiles tries when Derek walks back to him, only to be cut off by Derek shushing him.

“It’s going to be fine, we’re going to be fine,” Derek says, eyes flashing red and wild. “Don’t worry, Stiles.”

“I’m not worrying,” Stiles tells him. “But I’m thinking you should maybe—”

“Is everything okay?”

Both Stiles and Derek turn to the door, seeing one of TOL’s secretaries staring at them with a frightened and concerned expression. Stiles recognizes him as the man who is usually at the front sign in desk, and one quick look at his nametag tells him the man’s name is Greenberg.

“Yes, everything is—,”

“Not okay,” Derek interrupts him, . “We need Deaton back. Stiles’s water just broke.”

Greenberg’s eyes go huge and he lets out a squeak, and biting at the inside of his cheek is all Stiles can do not to laugh at him. Because the guy looks _terrified_ , and Stiles thinks that having Derek growl at him is not helping matters.

“I— I’m— I’ll—,” Greenberg sputters. “Yes, I’ll get Dr. Deaton. Just sit tight.”

“We’re not _going anywhere_ ,” Derek growls, and Stiles can see a hint of fang when Derek curls his lips. “Except to a delivery room, as soon as Deaton gets here. So maybe you should go run to him. _Fast_.”

“Yes, yes,” Greenberg nods, but still doesn’t move.

Stiles wonders if he’s a shapeshifter of some sort whose fight or flight instincts are going crazy right now.

“You can pretend I’m chasing you, if it’ll help,” Derek threatens.

Greenberg is out the door and running two seconds later.

And Stiles is _not_ impressed.

“You didn’t have to be rude,” Stiles snaps, poking Derek in the chest. “It’s not his fault my water just broke.”

“That’s because it’s mine,” Derek says, surprising Stiles. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. You’re a week early, the baby’s not ready yet.”

Stiles gapes at him. “Are you _serious_?”

“Of course I’m serious,” Derek says, lips turned down.

He looks so sad and guilty right then that Stiles has to fight down the urge to soothe him. And that’s because Derek is being completely unreasonable right now.

He tells Derek as much.

“You’re being completely unreasonable right now. I mean, you’ve read all the pregnancy books we have lying around in the apartment. I know you did. So you know you have _nothing_ to worry about. Our baby is _fine_ , he’s _perfect_. And if my water broke right now, then it means this _is_ the time the baby is ready to be born.”

Derek doesn’t look convinced, and he starts rubbing small circles against the skin of Stiles’s belly. It feels _really_ good, actually.

“Do you need anything, love?” Derek asks. “Are you oka— You’re not in _pain_ , are you?”

Stiles just leans up to kiss the worried look off of Derek’s face, rubbing Derek’s hand where it’s resting on his belly before breaking the kiss to look into Derek’s eyes. “All I need is right here.”

“What if something goes wrong?” Derek mumbles, hands turning over to link his fingers with Stiles’s.

“Nothing is going to go wrong,” Stiles says, smiling softly. “Plus, I didn’t even have any contractions yet. We’ve got plenty of time before—”

Fuck.

Because, of course, just as Stiles is saying that, a shooting pain goes through his abdomen, a sort of tightening feeling—like a charley horse but in his _stomach_. It’s bearable, but _barely_ , and Stiles doesn’t know if he can take this sort of pain for _hours_ to come.

The pains gone almost as quick as it came on and the next thing he knows, Derek’s hovering over him, eyes wide and scared, hands on Stiles’s chest and belly. “Stiles, _Stiles_. Are you okay? Can you talk to me?”

He takes a deep breath, “That was— that was _intense_. But then it just stopped, why—”

And then he sees it—Derek’s hands on his stomach and chest are covered in black veins and, oh. _That’s_ why the pain stopped.

“Derek, stop. You don’t have to do that for me, it really wasn’t that bad.” He’s not lying. Well, he’s not _completely_ lying. It hurt, but Stiles can handle hurt.

Maybe. _Possibly_.

Well, he knows he’s going to have to suck it up and grit his teeth and power through.

When he looks at Derek though, it’s clear Derek heard the lie in his words, despite how slight.

Stiles’s watches Derek’s veins go from black to grey and then fade back to normal, Derek’s tense expression not changing at all.

They both turn their heads to face the door when they hear a soft knock, and a moment later, Deaton is walking back in, looking calm and competent and professional. It makes Stiles feel a hell of a lot better.

“How are we doing?” Deaton asks, coming up to Stiles.

“Not so bad?” Stiles laughs shakily.

“I guess you won’t be needing any of the pamphlets I got for you, Mr. Stilinski.”

Stiles sees the faintest of smiles playing at Deaton’s lips, and he can’t help but roll his eyes at the doctor. “I guess not.”

“What about contractions? Any yet?”

“Just one,” Stiles says, placing his hand on top of Derek’s which is still on his stomach. “But Derek did his pain sucking wolfy thing and now I’m all better.”

“I would very much advise against that,” Deaton says, tone completely serious as he turns to Derek.

“He was in _pain_ ,” Derek says, like that explained everything.

Which kind of did, but still.

“This is not the kind of pain you can take away from him, Mr. Hale,” Deaton tells him. “Doing so will interfere with the labor. If Mr. Stilinski can’t feel his contractions he won’t know when to push, and that will most certainly cause complications.”

Derek looks like he’s been slapped in the face, and the only reason why he doesn’t snatch his hands back from Stiles’s stomach is because Stiles doesn’t let him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Stiles says, thumb rubbing circles against the back of Derek’s hand. “You didn’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” Derek whispers, eyes sad.

“Don’t you dare, Derek Hale. You were just trying to help me, and I very much appreciated it.” Stiles gives him a peck on the forehead. “Now sit tight so the doctor can tell us what’s next.”

Derek nods seriously and takes his seat next to Stiles’s exam table, one arm wrapped around Stiles’s waist and the other resting on his belly. He doesn’t look as scared, which is a good thing. Stiles doesn’t think he’ll be able to do this if Derek is freaking out.

“So what we’re going to do first, and hopefully finish before your next contraction, is insert an IV into your arm. It’s mostly to administer your fluids during the duration of labor, but in case something goes wrong later, it will already have been taken care of,” Deaton explains briskly, opening the door for a nurse with a rolling IV stand with a bag of some sort of fluid hanging from it.

“ _In case something goes wrong later_?” Derek repeats harshly. “What exactly does that _mean,_ Dr. Deaton?”

Stiles can tell Derek is _this_ close to wolfing out, the idea that there could be any complications in this pregnancy making his wolf tense.

“I’m sure there’s nothing to be worried about, Mr. Hale. But in case Mr. Stilinski decides he wants to be administered something for the pain, or if we have to anesthetize him to perform a C-section, things will go much faster if he’s already got an IV hooked up.” Deaton unwraps a frankly _humungous_ looking needle and hooks it up to the cord hanging off the IV.

Stiles tries to ignore the way his entire body goes cold at that, but he’s not that successful at it. He’s been afraid of needles since he was young, and he knows he won’t get over that fear right before he _pushes a kid out of his body_.

He winces. “Do we have to do this right now, Dr. Deaton? If the pregnancy progresses quickly, I won’t need fluids, and if everything goes okay, I won’t need any drugs either, right?” Stiles really doesn’t want that thing in him. “It can be prevented, right?”

Dr. Deaton nods slowly. “I suppose, yes, but you’d be taking a risk. Having the IV in now will make it much easier to administer drugs later, will make _everything_ go faster.”

Stiles grimaces. “Okay, fine. Just please get it over with.”

Stiles pulls Derek up next to him, offering one arm to Dr. Deaton and wrapping the other _tight_ around Derek’s waist. He buries his nose in Derek’s chest, and tries to let the sound of Derek’s heartbeat and Derek’s _scent_ calm him down.

It’s funny how many of Derek’s wolfy instincts he’s picked up in the last nine months.

He tries to concentrate on that, and Derek’s voice in his ear telling him _it’s okay_ and _I love you_ and _you’re so strong, I’m so proud of you_. After a short, sharp pain in his forearm—during which he’s pretty sure he dug his nails into Derek’s side—Dr. Deaton is stepping back, telling him he can sit back and relax now.

Stiles manages to relax for the barest moment before Deaton speaks again, “If I’m right, that shouldn’t be long now.”

Stiles doesn’t know how Deaton does it, he really doesn’t. He knows the guy’s a druid, but since when have druids been prophetic? Because Deaton hadn’t even finished _speaking_ and Stiles’s is feeling that tightening, cramping feels again, low in his abdomen.

The pain feels like it’s radiating outwards from his belly, reaching his chest and back and it _hurts_ and he wants—

No, he _needs_.

“Will someone go get me some fucking drugs _right now_? _”_

* * *

 

Derek isn’t really paying attention to what’s happening around him, his sole focus is on Stiles and their son.

He’s in a daze, only minimally aware of them moving into a delivery room, of a nurse checking how dilated Stiles is, of Stiles fishing Derek’s phone out of his pocket so that he can the pack and call his dad to let them all know the baby is coming.

Because _his baby is coming_. Right _now_.

His eyes never leave Stiles’s face and his hearing is completely focused on two heartbeats—the two most _important_ heartbeats he will ever know.

Derek’s constantly touching Stiles, too, just watching him isn’t enough. He soothes him by rubbing his bicep, moving up to push Stiles’s hair out of his face and wiping sweat from his brow.

His left hand stays tangled with Stiles’s right and he’s not sure who’s gripping who harder, but Stiles is probably going to have finger shaped bruises when this is all over. But really, the only reason Derek’s hand won’t look exactly the same is because of his healing.

He’s having a hard time remembering the breathing exercises that crazy Finstock taught them, stopping too often to keep his _own_ breathing in check to be able to help Stiles with his. All he can do is rub his hand over Stiles’s sternum and heart and _try_ to keep his own breathing constant and rhythmic enough for Stiles to follow.

Derek feels powerless.

Because Stiles is hurting and he knows there’s nothing he can do but try and comfort him with words, with touches, with promises that everything will be okay.

Later he knows he’ll be embarrassed about how _not_ together he is, how quick he was to panic when Stiles’s went into labor. He’s sure Stiles will make fun of him for it at some point, after they have their son in their arms and they’re both rested.

Right now all he can do is keep holding Stiles's hand in his, lips pressed to Stiles's forehead, whispering nonsense as Stiles goes through his contractions.

"We're going to have to start pushing any moment now," Deaton says, voice leveled and calm. "Get ready."

And right then and there Derek's never been more grateful to Coach Finstock's brand of special Lamaze classes. He grasps the knowledge of what he learned in those classes like a life-line, putting it to use and helping Stiles with his breathing as the hardest part of this entire thing starts.

"Kind of wishing we went with _Push It_ , huh?" Stiles jokes wearily, hair matted with sweat. "I'm kind of in need of some motivation right now. Because let me tell you, this stuff _hurts_."

Derek opens his mouth to apologize, but a second later Stiles is squeezing his hand with all his might, digging his nails into Derek's skin. The contractions are coming closer together now, and Derek knows it won't take too long now.

Their son will be _here_.

Derek ducks his head and rests his forehead against Stiles's, not minding the sweat.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Derek whispers. “I’m so proud of you. Just a little bit more, okay? And then we’ll have our son with us, we’ll actually be able to see him. Just hang on.”

“You better do something real nice for me after this is over,” Stiles pants, mouth tight with pain.

“Whatever you want,” Derek promises, placing a kiss on his forehead. “This is the single best day of my life and it’s all because of you.I love you. I love you so much.”

“Me too,” Stiles says. “Love you, too. Even though it’s half your fault it feels like my insides are being ripped apart. Our baby better be the cutest baby, because it’s gonna take me a long time before I’m willing to go through this again.”

Derek chokes, heart almost bursting in his chest at having Stiles _considering_ having other kids now that he’s in labor, feeling just how much it hurts to bring a child into the world.

He’s willing to wait as long as Stiles needs him to before bringing up more kids. A thought that’s both daunting and exhilarating.

“Did I lose you somewhere?” Stiles’s voice breaks through the haze of this thoughts and Derek looks over at the man he loves. “Because I kind of _really need_ you to be present for this.”

Stiles is covered in sweat, his hair is matted to his forehead, his cheeks and nose look like they're sun burnt. Hell, he’s in the middle of _labor_ but Derek still thinks Stiles is the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

Derek kisses his temple. “Just thinking about you.”

Stiles grins, that huge, happy smile that lights up his whole face—the one that Derek wants to see _constantly,_ for the rest of his life. “You know I’m right here, right?”

Derek opens, his mouth to reply, but Deaton beats him to it, “Okay boys, it’s time. Stiles, I need you to push now.”

Derek feels like time is passing too quickly and not quickly enough at the same time, and it’s not until Dr. Deaton mentions ‘crowning’ that he seems to snap out of his daze. Because _crowning_ means the baby is coming—that Stiles is no longer just having contractions, and that it’s time for him to actually push.

He’s torn between leaving Stiles’s side to go stand by his feet, to see the moment his son comes into the world.Stiles has still got a death grip on his hand though, so even if he _had_ made up his mind to move, he likely wouldn’t have been able to.

Not that he really minds, because not that Stiles has actually started to push, Derek finds himself feeling kind of... _faint_. Because this is it. This is the moment. One of the most important moments of his life: when his son, part of the next Generation of Hales, is born.

All he does is stay by Stiles’s side, trying his best to get Stiles through this, all the while hoping to fuck he doesn’t end up passing out in the delivery room.

He _refuses_ to give Stiles and Erica the satisfaction.

And it’s a good thing his sheer force of will keeps him standing, because he’s pretty sure his heart stops beating when he sees Deaton holding a pink, wrinkly goo-covered newborn in his hands.

And when his son starts crying? When he opens his little mouth and almost deafens Derek with just how loud his wails are? Derek starts crying too. He’s not ashamed to admit it. He bursts out crying, shoulders shaking with it.

His vision is blurred when he glances down at Stiles, but he can make out the big fat tears sliding down Stiles’s cheeks.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt, right?” Derek can _not_ have anything going wrong right now.

Stiles smiles through his tears. “I’m perfect, baby. Just like our son. Isn’t that right, Dr. Deaton?”

“I see all ten fingers and ten toes,” Deaton says, and Derek can’t help but sigh in relief.

“I love you,” Derek tells Stiles, voice thick. “I love you.”

“Dad,” Deaton says, smiling a little when Derek turns to him. “Would you like to cut the cord?”

Derek nods, reaching for the surgical scissors with one hand and frantically wiping his eyes with the other.

He lets Deaton guide him through the process, telling where to cut and with how much pressure, and the minute he’s done a nurse is whisking his son a way with the promise of, “I’ll just be a moment, hon.”

Derek wants nothing more than to follow her—anxious not to have his son out of his sight for even a single moment, but Stiles stops him with a nudge to his hip. “Come here, Der. She just has to wash him up. Right now he looks like some sort of creature from a horror movie.”

Derek looks up at Stiles, torn between amusement and alarm. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Oh just you wait, babe. A whole lot of nasty shit is still to come.”

Derek is pretty sure he could’ve gone his entire life not knowing what afterbirth is.

He also can’t _not_ dry heave when Stiles mentions in some cultures, the father eats the placenta as a ritual for the well-being of the new infant.

Luckily, he’s immediately distracted by the nurse coming back in with a tiny, yellow bundle in her arms, headed straight for Derek.

And then?

Well, then nothing else in the entire world matters.

Because Derek is _holding his son._

* * *

 

When Deaton tells him that the baby—his _son_ —is crowning, Stiles has no idea if he’s excited or terrified. Because this is it.

This is the moment that he’s been anticipating for what feels like _forever_ now.

In a few short moments he’s going to meet _his and Derek’s_ son.

And then in a few days, they’ll take him home and will be responsible for this entire _life_ that they created.

It’ll be Stiles and Derek and their son for the rest of his life and that—

It’s _surreal_.

But he can’t think about that because Deaton is telling him to push, and he _is_ , and it _hurts_. It fucking _hurts_ , okay? It’s the worst pain Stiles has ever felt, and he’s felt a _lot_.

He is so going to punch Danny in the face when this is all over because Danny _totally_ underplayed how hard this is. How painful and exhausting and _long_ this is.

But then—

Then he opens his eyes.

He opens his eyes and sees Derek. He sees Derek looking at him with so much love and gratitude and emotion and affection and he knows he can do this.

He can definitely do this, because this part? This part only lasts for a little bit. Sure, it might feel like he’s someone is currently stabbing him from the inside out when every contraction comes, but it won’t last. He won’t have to endure it for long.

And then he gets to have his _lifetime_ of happiness when it’s all over. A lifetime of happiness with his _son_ and with _Derek_.

So Stiles scrunches his eyes shut, and grits his teeth and squeezes Derek’s hand and pushes and pushes and pushes with all that he’s got, right up until Deaton says he can stop.

Because then he’s hearing the loud cries of his baby boy, hearing Deaton congratulate them, hearing Derek’s sobs as he cries.

And all Stiles can do is cry with him, because they did it. Their little boy is here and he’s perfect and that’s all Stiles has ever wanted.

There are no words to describe the relief and _joy_ he feels when Deaton confirms that their little boy is perfect.

His heart tugs in his chest when he sees Derek cutting the cord, his lips curling up at the narrowed look on Derek’s face when a nurse tries to take their son away. He calls Derek to him, knowing it won’t do them any good if Derek decides to act like an overprotective jackass right now.

He does a pretty damn good job of distracting Derek, if he does say so himself.

Stiles is really glad he closed his eyes when Deaton was disposing of the gross stuff that came out of him. Because that means he gets to open his eyes to the image of Derek crying silently and holding a bundle wrapped in yellow to his chest and he just collapses back against the bed.

And then holds his arms out for _his son_.

For _their_ son.

“Gimme,” Stiles says, voice rough with emotion. “Wanna see him.”

“He’s beautiful,” Derek says, sitting down beside Stiles on the bed. “Thank you.”

“Of course he is,” Stiles sniffs, making grabby hands. “Now hand him over. I had this littlemonkey kicking me in the stomach for the better part of five months. I want to see what he looks like.”

“He looks like you,” Derek says, amazed.

Stiles shakes his head at him, not knowing why Derek would ever think that’s a good thing.

“Really, Derek,” Stiles huffs. “Let me hold our son.”

Derek passes the baby over, but still keeps one of his hands pressed against his little side.

Stiles gathers his son close, one hand protectively cupping his head. His breath hitches and his eyes fill with tears as he stares down at his _son_ , not believing _he_ was the little thing Stiles carried around for nine months.

Their perfect _tiny_ son who is pink faced and still crying a little but _so_ beautiful with a tuft of dark hair on his head and ten fingers and toes and what looks like Stiles’s nose. Stiles wonders what his eyes will look like. He hopes they’re just like Derek’s.

“We did really good,” Stiles says, breathless. “Like, _really good_. We should be impressed with ourselves. Top baby on the Ten Most Perfect Babies List right here.”

“I didn’t know there was one of those,” Derek jokes.

“Sure there is,” Stiles nods, tracing a finger over the bridge of their son’s little nose. “And this one’s the winner.”

“I should probably go tell the pack everything’s okay,” Derek says, though he doesn’t move an inch. “They probably wore a hole through the floor in the waiting room already.”

“Nah, they can wait,” Stiles shakes his head. “This little guy here is more important.”

“And better company,” Derek adds.

“And cuter,” Stiles says, smiling. “ _So much_ cuter than all of your aunts and uncles, isn’t that so, buddy?”

Their son doesn’t even stir, but that doesn’t stop Stiles from thinking he’s about the most amazing person in the world right now.

“He also smells better,” Derek mumbles.

“Oh, really?” Stiles glances up at Derek, raising an eyebrow. “How’s that?”

“Smells like us,” Derek shrugs, and Stiles pretends he can’t see Derek’s eyes flash red. “Like you and me and pack. Together.”

Stiles looks from Derek to their son and back again, lips tipping up. “You want to cuddle the hell out of him right now, don’t you?”

“Not just him,” Derek says, cheeks flushing. “Both of you.”

“Cuddle away,” Stiles tells him. “Well, at least after we move to our room.”

And Derek does just that as soon Stiles is wheeled out of the delivery room, getting up on the bed and molding himself against Stiles’s side.

“I’ll talk to the packs in a minute,” Derek says, rubbing his cheek against Stiles’s own. “This is more important.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything, just settles into Derek and keeps snuggling their son. They spend the next few minutes like that, just watching him, tracing his chubby pink cheeks with the tips of their fingers, gasping and staring wide-eyed whenever he moves or yawns or kicks his tiny feet up.

“I keep calling him _son_ in my head,” Stiles says, looking up at Derek, all red eyes and exhaustion and love shining through. “We should probably give him a name.”

“We should,” Derek agrees.

“Do you think he looks like, a what?” Stiles asks. “Connor? Hunter? Steve?”

Derek wrinkles his nose. “None of those.”

“James?”

“No,” Derek shakes his head. “Jonathan?”

“Nope,” Stiles says. “His nose is too cute for him to be a Jonathan.”

Derek snorts, rolling his eyes. “Of course.”

“Miles?” Stiles asks, hopeful.

“No,” Derek scoffs. “And no Eric, either. What about Parker?”

Stiles looks horrified. “I know I liked that name before but all I can think about now is about one of those upper east side douchebags in a polo shirt. Our son is _not_ a Parker.”

Derek hums in agreement. “I kind of like Nathan?”

Stiles’s eyes widen as he considers it and looks down at their son. “Nathan Hale,” he says finally, voice low and awed.

Derek shakes his head. “Nathan _Stilinski_ -Hale, Stiles. Remember?”

Stiles can’t help the way his heart skips a beat at the sound of that. “Yes, I remember. What about a middle name?”

Derek considers it. “Do you have one in mind?”

“I always figured I’d name my first kid after Scott in some way.” Stiles looks up at Derek earnestly. “Just to honor everything we’ve been through together? But I totally understand if that’s too much. I mean, he’s the Alpha of another pack and as close as we all are, I’d totally get it if you didn’t want that.”

Stiles doesn’t know what he was expecting when he suggested the name, but it _certainly_ wasn’t this.

Derek’s eyes fall to his son, tears gathering in his eyes and voice cracking when he says, “I think he definitely looks like a Nathan Scott Stilinski-Hale.”

Stiles smiles, his own eyes filling with tears, his heart almost bursting out of his chest with happiness.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, running the tip of his finger across his son’s forehead. “I think you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathan Scott wasn’t the name we had planned from the very beginning, but the opportunity presented itself and we just ran with it. Must be OTH withdrawal. 
> 
> Anyways, we have one more chapter and then an epilogue and then we’re all done guys! 
> 
> Next update: **Nov 7th, around 5pm EST.**


	18. Where it was dark, now there’s light. Where there was pain, now there’s joy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, werewolves have a different word for it. For partners.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from [A New Day Has Come (Celine Dion)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NaGLVS5b_ZY). And as usual, here’s the [Settle Down 'Verse Breakdown](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/sdch) in case you need it.
> 
> xoxo,
> 
> J & P

Stiles hasn’t even been in his private recovery room for thirty minutes when Erica and Lydia peek their heads through the door.

He should have guessed.

He’s actually surprised it took them this long to find him and burst into the room, but he can’t say he’s not glad for it—it actually gave him extra time to cuddle his son without other people around wanting to hold the baby. You know, with the exception of Derek, but he doesn’t really count.

Derek waves the girls in with a roll of his eyes, and behind them are Boyd, Isaac, Scott, Kira, and Jackson with Dawn in his arms.

Lydia, Erica, and Scott are all carrying small shopping bags, and Stiles has no doubts they hold clothes and toys for Nathan. Nevermind that his kid already has plenty of that stuff. Stiles wonders if this is something pack is supposed to do, shower new packmates with lots and lots of presents, not that he cares that much. The bags mean his kid will have clothes to wear when they’re released and are able to go home, since he and Derek didn’t exactly have time to grab their bags from the car before Stiles was rushed into the delivery room.

“Hi,” Stiles says, giving them a tired smile.

“ _Dude_ ,” Scott whispers, all awe and wide-eyed as he stares down at Nathan. “That is one cute baby.”

“Yeah,” Stiles breathes out, grinning. He couldn’t be more proud of his baby boy.

“Dawn was cuter,” Jackson sniffs, and then quickly adds when Derek growls at him. “But this one’s handsome, too.”

Dawn coos from her place in Jackson’s arms, blinking owlishly down at Nathan, an intent look on her face.

“Thanks,” Stiles says dryly, turning so he can rub his nose against Derek’s shoulder. “And you, stop growling at our friends. Even if they _do_ insult our baby.”

Derek grumbles, glaring at Jackson before glancing back down at Nathan. Stiles watches with a smile as Derek’s entire expression changes once he stares at their son, the lines of his face softer, warmer.

“You did a good job,” Lydia says, coming up to Stiles’s other side and placing her bag on top of the bed. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Derek replies, not bothering to look up.

“Look at that,” Erica pipes up, and when Stiles looks at her she’s smirking. “I knew Derek would be a hot dad.”

“ _Right_?” Stiles laughs, only to stop as soon as Nathan makes a little bothered sound in his sleep. “Shh, little guy. I’m sorry,” Stiles says, pressing a kiss to the top of Nathan’s head. “But your Aunt Erica has a point. Your daddy _is_ hot.”

“Aunt Erica,” Erica repeats, voice wobbly. Stiles doesn’t have to look at her to know she has tears in her eyes. “How nice is _that_?”

“Hella nice,” Kira says, grinning. “We’re all aunts and uncles now.”

“I feel old, all of a sudden,” Isaac answers. “I don’t mind as much as I thought I would.”

“Just wait until you have your own,” Boyd tells him, clapping Isaac on the back when Isaac just looks at him, horrified.

“I want one,” Erica says, eyeing Boyd.

“I know,” Boyd says, smiling a little. “You said that when we were shopping for baby clothes.”

“Is that what’s in the bags?” Stiles perks up.

“Yes,” Lydia nods. “Since all of this happened in a rush, we thought it’d be good to buy some. We also have blankets and beanies.”

“Derek could just go grab our things from the car,” Stiles sighs, but sends her a grateful look.

Derek frowns. “But then I’d have to leave.”

Stiles chokes on a laugh, leaning in to place a kiss on Derek’s jaw. “You’re too cute sometimes.”

Nathan chooses that moment to raise one of his little hands up in a stretch, his small fingers uncurling and curling into his palm. He doesn’t open his eyes, just moves around a little before settling back comfortably into the cocoon of blankets wrapped around him. The entire pack watches, amazed, like what he just did was the most wonderful thing in the world.

“Really,” Erica says, eyes glued to Nathan. “I want one, Boyd.”

“How about we test-drive it with this one first?” Boyd suggests.

“My son is not an experiment,” Derek snaps, glaring at them.

“Chill, baby,” Stiles says, patting Derek’s cheek. “You know that’s not what they meant. And you also know this means we get free babysitters whenever we want.”

“Not on date night,” Erica says, narrowing her eyes at him. “Or whenever _How to Get Away with Murder_ is on.”

“I’ll look after him,” Scott offers, puffing his chest. “He’s my nephew, I can do it.”

Derek looks dubious, so Stiles is quick to nod and take Scott up on it.

“You’re gonna spend lots of time together,” Stiles tells him. “Not just because Derek and I will need time for ourselves sometimes, but also because our son should get to know his namesake.”

Stiles is glad he’s lying down, because he doesn’t think it’d be good for him to hold Scott up when he sways and almost falls on his ass. At least not right after having a baby.

“What?” Scott says faintly, leaning against Kira and letting her throw one of his arms around her shoulders while she holds him by the waist. “You what?”

Stiles shrugs one shoulder, doing his best not to jostle Nathan. “You’re my best bro, my family. You know it’s Stilinski tradition to name our kids after someone we love. How do you think I got saddled with the monstrosity that is my first name?”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Scott chokes up, bottom lip wobbling.

“You know dad isn’t big on the name thing,” Stiles continues, voice cracking. “He doesn’t want anyone named after him, not that his name is horrible. At least not compared to mine. So I thought, who do I love most after dad?”

“I thought that was Derek,” Isaac whispers, yelping when Jackson elbows him in the ribs.

“It was a good choice,” Derek says quietly, staring at Scott. “I haven’t known you for long, but I know you’re a good person, a good Alpha, and a great friend to Stiles. It felt right.”

“Guys,” Scott sniffs, eyes wet.

“Oh, just come here and hug us,” Stiles huffs, opening one arm so he can hug Scott around the waist when his best friend comes to him.

“Thank you,” Scott says against Derek’s shoulder, his forehead pressed to Stiles’s.

“We love you, dude,” Stiles tells him. “Or at least I do.”

Derek clears his throat, and Stiles can feel him pat Scott on the back. “I just like you.”

Scott laughs, pulling back so he can duck his head and brush a kiss to Nathan’s forehead. “Love you too, buddy. I’m gonna be the best uncle ever, you’ll see.”

“Can we all get our cuddle on, now?” Erica asks, making grabby hands at Nathan. “I really want to hold him.”

“As long as he comes back to me,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes when Derek scowls and looks none too happy about someone else holding their son, even if it’s pack.

The next half hour are full of Nathan being passed around from packmate to packmate, all of them kissing him and running their fingers through his fuzzy head, scent marking as a new member of the pack. Stiles watches as they coo and aww at their son, leaning heavily against the stack of pillows behind his back.

Stiles can barely keep his eyes open, the events of the day finally catching up to him, but he can’t really bring himself to ask them to leave. Not when they all look so happy with Nathan, taking pictures and smiling and talking about all the things they want to teach him once he’s older.

Luckily, Derek notices he’s about to drop, and Derek has no problem in shooing them all out.

“You can all come back tomorrow,” Derek tells them. “And you probably have enough pictures to last you even longer.”

“What if he does something cute when we’re not here?” Erica asks, making a face at him.

“Derek will take pictures,” Kira says like it’s a no brainer. “He’ll need something to do while he watches them sleep.”

“You make it sound creepy,” Derek complains.

“It is,” Boyd, Jackson, Lydia, and Isaac all say.

Stiles has to bite back a smile at the offended look on Derek’s face.

It takes about ten more minutes for all of them to leave, making promises to come back tomorrow and congratulating them in between hugs and kisses. Derek comes to lay on Stiles’s side after the room is clear and the door is closed, taking Nathan from him and cuddling him close to his chest.

Stiles lies on his side, looking at his baby and his—his what?

Is Derek his boyfriend? His man?

His baby daddy?

He hates that he doesn’t know how to finish that sentence.

Also, now, what’s going to happen?

Will he still be living with Derek, is he going to move in for good or do they need to spend some time apart? He’s pretty sure it would break his heart spending any time at all away from from his kid and from Derek.

Stiles has gotten _used_ to waking up to Derek sprawled over him, and making coffee for him, and teasing him in the shower and _all of it_. He knows he should bring it up.

He just doesn’t know how.

* * *

Derek is surrounded by the scent of Stiles and his _son_ and _kin_ and _family_ and it’s perfect. There’s a hint of hospital and sterile in the background but it’s not really bothering him. He’s feeling downright _blissful_.

Or it _would_ be if Stiles would just relax.

He can _feel_ the way Stiles tensed up next to him just moments ago, can hear his heart going a mile a minute and can guess that Stiles is probably freaking out about something in his head. He gets up to place Nathan in a bassinet by Stiles’s bed and then gets back in the bed, under the covers, and maneuvers Stiles so he’s laying back against Derek’s chest.

And then he waits.

Because if living with Stiles has taught him anything, it’s that Stiles _will_ bring up what’s bothering him.

Eventually.

But, since Stiles’s current uncomfortableness is cutting into Derek’s cuddle time, he decides to speed up the conversation a little.

“Whatever it is you’re freaking out about, it’s probably nothing.” He knows that’s not a good opener when Stiles narrows his eyes at him, so he quickly adds, “But I know you can’t help how you feel about things sometimes. I also know that you know you can talk to me about it. No need to agonize over it.”

Stiles sighs, expression smoothing out into something warmer. “I like it when you use your words.”

“I’d like if if you used yours,” Derek says, raising an eyebrow.

Stiles looks at him as if to say _point_ , but it still takes a few minutes of him fidgeting with the covers and playing with Derek’s fingers before he finally speaks.

“Are you my boyfriend?” Stiles says hesitantly, looking up at Derek from under his eyelashes.

Well, that’s really not what Derek was expecting. At all.

“I…,” Derek trails off, not really knowing what Stiles is looking for here. “Not really. Boyfriend just feels a little weak for what we’re doing here. I think of you as my partner. ”

“Yeah?” Stiles asks, and Derek can hear the relief in his voice.

“Yes. Stiles, of course.” Derek can’t believe Stiles doesn’t know this already. He’s forgotten just how _different_ humans can be. If Stiles were a werewolf, he’d know for certain all the things Derek feels for him. “I love you. I will _always_ love you.”

“I know that,” Stiles huffs, leaning over to peck Derek on the lips. “I love you too. But that’s not what’s worrying me, though. It’s just the not really knowing what to call you thing, I guess? I mean, we only ever really got together two months ago, but we have a _kid_? So it feels like too much for just thinking of you as my _boyfriend_. But what would it be instead of that?”

“Partners,” Derek says again. “That’s what we are.”

“Okay,” Stiles nods, and Derek can feel him relax against his side. “Okay, that’s good.”

“Are you done freaking out now?”

“Yup.”

“Good,” Derek says, smiling a little. “You know, werewolves have a different word for it. For partners.”

Stiles looks at him quizzically, eyebrows raised and eyes inquisitive. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

He’s about eighty percent sure Stiles knows this word. He’s in a pack with ‘wolf couples after all. Well, half ‘wolf couples. Okay, so maybe he might not know it afterall. “Mates.”

Stiles blushes. “Oh.” Derek waits and watches as Stiles tangles their fingers together and brings both their hands to rest against his chest. “So what does that mean, exactly?”

“It means you’re it,” Derek says simply. Because it _is_ simple. “It means I chose you and you chose me.” He stops, and thinks about the last few months, about how he felt when Stiles was in California. “I love you, and you love me, and as far as I’m concerned, we could spend every hour of every day together for the rest of our lives and it wouldn’t be enough.”

Stiles is still blushing, a cute red flush under his cheeks, but his eyes are pleased and his lips are curled up in a soft smile. “Well, well Mr. Hale, consider me wooed.” Stiles leans forward to place a soft kiss on Derek’s lips. “Mates sounds good.”

Derek cups Stiles’s cheek and kisses him again, slow and sweet. Stiles sighs into the kiss and gets his fingers tangled in Derek’s hair, and Derek doesn’t hesitate before deepening the kiss, licking his way into Stiles’s mouth, tasting him. You know, until Stiles pulls back to yawn in his face.

“So romantic,” Derek teases, brushing his thumb against Stiles’s cheek.

“Ugh, shut up,” Stiles groans. “I just pushed our son out of me, I’m tired.”

“Then sleep,” Derek says, kissing the tip of Stiles’s nose. “I’ll watch over you and Nathan.”

“Big protector wolf you,” Stiles says softly, kissing Derek again before scooting down the bed and making himself comfortable. “Wake me up if something important happens.”

“I will.”

“That includes Nathan doing something cute. I need to film it and send it to my dad.”

“Scott already texted him pictures,” Derek says. “But I will.”

“Alrighty,” Stiles sighs, eyes falling shut. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Derek makes himself comfortable by Stiles’s side, keeping one eye on the door and the other on Nathan. He occasionally glances at Stiles whenever his _mate_ snuffles in his sleep, lips curling up and wolf purring in contentment at having the two most important people in his life by his side, safe and sound.

Stiles sleeps for about an hour and a half before a nurse comes in and Nathan starts fussing. She pays Derek no mind at all—despite his low growl—and instead, scoops Nathan up and gently nudges Stiles awake.  

Stiles wakes slowly, but his face softens into a smile right away at the sight of his son. The nurse hands him over and fusses with the bed until it’s somewhat upright. “Ready to try feeding?”

Derek tenses for a minute, unsure how this nurse knows about their special circumstances, but then remembers where he is and relaxes. TOL must keep all their employees in the know about the supernatural.

“God, I never thought I’d hear someone ask me that,” Stiles says, shaking his head. “My life is so weird.”

The nurse laughs a little. “It’s good for your baby, though.”

“Well, then. Let’s do this.”

Derek helps Stiles with his clothes, baring his chest so his nipples are uncovered. Nathan gurgles and scrunches up his nose, and it doesn’t take much to see he’s hungry and displeased about being moved around.

The nurse smiles at the display, “So, hon, we’re just going to have you move him into position, and if we’re lucky, his instincts will take it from there. If not, we can try a couple different things.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, letting out a deep breath. “We got this, don’t we Nate?”

Nathan’s chin trembles and his little hands grasp at nothing as Stiles positions him against his chest, and Derek’s heart almost breaks in his chest at seeing his son upset.

Derek can’t keep his gaze away as he watches Nathan latch onto a nipple and start to suckle. His hands come up in a manner that Derek supposes is instinctive and Stiles brings his hands up for Nathan to curl his fingers around one of Stiles’s thumbs.

“Look at that boys, he got it on the first go!” The nurse exclaims happily, beaming at Nathan and Stiles. “I’ll just let you boys have some privacy. If you need anything at all, don’t be afraid to ring!”

She leaves tittering happily, and Derek’s not ashamed to say he’s perfectly happy seeing her go.

He turns back to his son and when he looks up, Stiles’s eyes meet his immediately. They’re wide and bright and awed. “Derek. Derek. I’m feeding my son right now. I’m feeding our son. This is so weird. But amazing. I can’t even describe it.”

Derek snorts.

“No, but really. It feels really really weird,” Stiles continues. “Not a bad weird, just hella strange.” Stiles tilts his head to the side, brows furrowing. “Although this whole lactating thing isn’t exactly common to begin with.”

“You look good,” Derek says, because it’s the truth.

Stiles raises an eyebrow at him, eyes glinting. “I’d say you’re totally preening on the inside because I’m able to do this and we don’t have to buy baby formula, but I can actually _see_ how smug you look right now.”

Derek shrugs one shoulder, because it’s not like he’s hiding it. His wolf is indeed ridiculously proud his _mate_ is strong and healthy and able to provide for their son.

“Does it hurt?” Derek asks after watching Stiles’s slight wince when Nathan gives a particularly strong suckle.

“A bit?” Stiles says. “All I’ve read about it since it started happening was that it’s going to get worse.”

“I could help with that,” Derek says, wiggling his fingers.

Stiles smiles at him, soft and warm. “Baby, please?”

“You don’t have to say please,” Derek mutters, wrapping his fingers around Stiles’s wrist and taking his pain.

“God, I love you,” Stiles sighs. Nathan makes a pleased little noise in his throat, and Stiles grins down at him. “You too? Okay then, we both love Daddy.”

Derek shakes his head at him, all fondness and love, and leans in to place a kiss on the top of Nathan’s head and then on Stiles’s forehead.

“Love you both.”

The nurse comes back in then and looks far too pleased at the display.

“You’re such a cute family,” she coos, smiling blindly when Derek blushes.

Derek is _so_ looking forward to go home.

* * *

Stiles is back at Derek’s apartment, at the place he can now surely call his home, and he can’t even begin to express what a relief it is to be there.

He’s still moving a bit stiffly, muscles sore, body aching, so to finally be able to sprawl himself on top of his and Derek’s bed where everything smells of _them_ kind of makes Stiles want to cry. He smiles instead, because close to him is Nathan, placed in the middle of the mattress with pillows surrounding him.

Derek is in the nursery, putting away all the gifts the pack brought to the hospital, and trying to organize everything before Nathan wakes up from his long nap and their parenting begins. So far it’s been easy, with Nathan sleeping most of the time and only waking up when he’s hungry or when he needs a change.

Stiles has to say it was an experience the first time he and Derek changed a diaper. Derek had stood there _horrified_ by the smell while Stiles had scrambled around trying to clean Nate and dispose of the diaper before poop went flying _everywhere_. Only to, of course, have Nate immediately pee in their faces—or try to—as Stiles attempted to put the new diaper on.

Right now, though Nathan is sleeping peacefully, tiny arms and legs secured around the two blankets wrapped around him. Stiles can’t see it, but he knows Nathan is dressed in one of the onesies Lydia bought him, one with [Donatello](http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/62/5c/30/625c307ad699aa1607c616ebac2412fe.jpg) from TMNT on it.

Stiles thinks he’s the cutest baby he’s ever seen _and_ he’s one of Dawn’s uncles. So cute, in fact, that Stiles needs to share the adorableness with everyone he knows.

He pulls his phone out, sitting crossed leg on the bed so he can get a good angle when he takes a picture of Nathan. Or several pictures. He has a feeling he and Derek are going to have about three hundred photo albums in the house solely dedicated to their son. And it’ll just be from his first year.

About a minute after he sends the picture his phone vibrates, ‘Dad’ flashing across the screen.

“Hey, dad,” Stiles says brightly.

“Good to know you’re doing well,” the Sheriff says dryly, and Stiles winces.

He had made a promise to his dad to call when he went into labor, but he didn’t exactly have the time to do it. He did sent his dad a text, though, just like he did everyone when Deaton was moving him to the delivery room. And then after he fed Nathan, just to assure him everything went fine and they were both healthy and safe.

“Sorry,” Stiles says. “We didn’t really have time to call anyone. We just went in for our doctor’s appointment when my water broke.”

“Still wouldn’t have killed you to update your old man,” his dad sighs. “The only reason I haven’t booked a flight yet is because Scott called me to let me know you were all okay and that my grandson is the cutest baby ever.”

“He really is,” Stiles says, grinning. “Did you see the picture?”

“Of course I saw it,” his dad huffs, but Stiles can hear the happiness in his tone. “He’s great, kid. Congratulations.”

“He’s perfect,” Stiles corrects. “Thanks, dad.”

“I want to see if you’ll be singing his praises when he wakes you up every two hours in the middle of the night,” his dad teases. “I remember when you were a baby, I thought I’d never get a good night’s sleep again.”

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles says. “Derek’s still in denial about it, though. He thinks Nathan is a perfect little angel who would never do anything like cry all night when he’s supposed to be asleep.”

“He’s in for a surprise,” his dad laughs.

“Yup. Nathan’s been good about it so far, but that’s when we were at the hospital. Now that we’re home I’m waiting for him to show his true colors.”

“You make it sound like he’s changeling child.”

“He’s too cute for that,” Stiles coos, running his fingers through Nathan’s hair. “And Derek would know if he was a changeling, he’d scent it. Nate would smell like leaves and dirt and not like us and that newborn baby smell everyone loves.”

“Right,” his dad deadpans. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“You’ll see when you come visit.”

“About that,” his dad says. “I thought I’d give you two some time to settle into a routine with the new baby, but I have some time off at the end of the month. How’s that work?”

Derek appears in the doorway then, eyes wide and a little terrified. That’s enough for Stiles to know Derek caught the conversation with his dad, but he still goes right ahead and says, “That works for us, dad.”

Derek’s eyes widen impossibly further and he clenches his fist, looking between Stiles and Nathan and continuing to look terrified. Stiles just winks at him.

“Well, run it by Derek and let me know, son.” Stiles snorts. Derek has no choice in this matter. If Stiles wants to he see his dad, wants his dad to see _his son_ , there’s no way Derek’s going to stop that from happening.

Still, he doesn’t say that out loud. “Will do, dad. He’ll be fine with I’m sure.” He looks over at Derek who gives him a brief nod, eyes still wide and scared.

“Still, just have a conversation about it and let me know by the end of the week so I can buy those tickets.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and looks up. Derek’s disappeared from the doorway, seemingly back in the nursery. “Okay, dad. Now, tell me about you. How’s Melissa? Is she keeping you on track with the diet?”

His dad groans. Stiles grins.

After another ten minutes of bugging his father about his diet, Stiles hangs up the phone with the promise to call back in the next few days. He’s fairly certain Derek isn’t going to prohibit him from inviting his father to _their_ home but he should still make sure.

It takes about ten minutes before Derek comes back, looking slightly less freaked out about the conversation he walked in on.

“So,” Stiles starts, lips curling up. “Are we going to talk about how you’re terrified of my dad?”

He watches in fascination as Derek’s entire face does this twist before settling into looking mildly irritated.

“Your dad is the Sheriff,” is all Derek says, like that explains something.

“So?”

“He also knows about the supernatural.”

“Which is a good thing,” Stiles says. “This means I don’t have to worry about giving him a heart attack when I tell him my significant other is a werewolf and there’s fifty-fifty chance his grandson will be one too.”

“He’s licensed to carry a _gun_ , Stiles,” Derek says, exasperated.

“Not in New York, he isn’t!” Stiles argues, having way too much fun with this. “Seriously, dad’s harmless.”

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Derek mumbles, lowering his eyes. “We didn’t exactly meet traditionally.”

“He’s going to love you,” Stiles says softly, grabbing Derek’s hand and tangling their fingers together. “And he and mom met when she was arrested for starting a bar fight when a guy tried to get a hand up her skirt. That’s not exactly traditional either, but it worked for them.”

“Yeah?” Derek asks, looking a bit more hopeful.

“Yes,” Stiles says firmly. “And the minute he sees how _happy_ I am, not to mention when he sees his _gorgeous_ grandson, he’s going to _love_ you. So you don’t need to worry about it.”

Derek doesn’t look convinced. Not that it matters, because about five seconds later Nathan starts crying.

* * *

Nathan doesn’t stop crying.

Which means that he and Stiles aren’t sleeping that much either.

It’s worse for Stiles, of course, because Nathan needs to be fed every so often and it’s not like Derek can really help out there.

But still.

It doesn’t stop Derek from waking up every time Nathan’s cries fill the air.

Of course it’s easier for him, with his high metabolism and supernatural healing to recover from sleepless nights, but Stiles is a different story.

He hates watching Stiles stumble around like a zombie with dark rings under his eyes and perpetually exhausted.

After one week of this, Derek starts seeking help on the internet. There has to be _something_ he can do to help out.

He sees a bunch of crap from moms saying that ‘breastfeeding is a beautiful and natural thing’ and replies that range from agreement to ‘are you high, lady?’ He follows some of the more promising threads which lead him to a side by side comparison of the latest breast pumps.

And, well. He didn’t even know that was a possibility.

It might not be considering Stiles isn’t a woman.

But still, if it’s something that would help Stiles get more sleep, then it’s something worth pursuing.

He calls a couple places, but can’t seem to figure out how to say the words ‘can this be used for men’ without coming off sounding like a complete idiot. Or like he’s a prank caller.

So naturally, he calls Erica.

“How’s it going, Daddy Der-Bear? The munchkin driving you crazy yet?”

Derek sighs. “Please don’t call me that in front of Stiles. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Erica snorts. “And what will you do for me in return?”

He rolls his eyes. He’s about to give her mocking material for the rest of her life, he might as well get it over with.

“You don’t know anything about breast pumps do you?”

It’s silent on Erica’s end of the line and Derek wishes he knew what was going through her head. If she’s being silent, it’s probably nothing good.

“I know that it’s for new moms so their kid can be fed without them there. But why would you…” He hears a thump like Erica dropped the phone and then gasping laughter. “Oh. My. God. Oh my god oh my god.”

He waits.

He hears a whoosh of air like Erica picked up the phone quickly and then, “Stiles is _lactating_? Oh my god, I cannot believe it. Like I actually never imagined that being a possibility.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Neither did we. Until it _actually happened_.”

“Oh man. Oh man, I bet you’re _loving_ this. I can just see it.”

Derek can practically see her nodding smugly as she tries to keep from laughing again. He’s starting wonder why she is who he chose to call. He also refuses to own up to just how much he _is_ enjoying Stiles lactating.

“Erica, we are up _all hours of the night_ and Stiles is dead on his feet these days. So sorry for thinking that you would be able to help me help _him_. I’ll just call someone else,” Derek bites out, ready to just slam the phone down and go back to his research.

“Derk, I’m sorry.” Erica sounds sincere now, so he refrains from actually hanging up on her. “But, I really don’t have any idea of how to help you. I don’t know anything about being a new mom.”

Derek shuts his eyes and nods, belatedly remembering that she can’t exactly _see_ him. “I know. I knew that. I just. I don’t know who else to call.”

Erica snorts. “How about the only other new mom we know?”

Huh. Derek should have thought of that in the first place. Even if she isn’t breast feeding herself—Lydia knows everything about _everything_. She should definitely be the person to call.

“Talk to you later,” Derek says, only stopping to add a, “Thanks,” before hanging up.

Lydia picks up on the third ring, and the first thing out of her mouth is, “Did you drop Nathan on his head?”

“I— _No_ ,” Derek snaps. “We’d never do that.”

“Then why are you calling?”

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath. “I wanted to know if regular breast pumps would work for Stiles.”

“They will,” Lydia says without hesitating, and Derek breathes out a sigh of relief. He didn’t know what he’d do if Lydia also laughed at him. “But you might want to get something with stronger suction. I’ll send you an email with links to the best ones in five minutes. Goodbye.”

Derek blinks, staring down at his phone and seeing the call’s disconnected. Five minutes later there is an email from Lydia on his inbox, though, linking to seven different breast pumps and rating them from most popular to least. And Derek has to give it to her—Lydia is thorough in her research.

He places the order, checking the overnight delivery option.

Stiles practically throws himself at him when the package arrives and Derek explains what it’s for, and then goes straight to reading the instructions to know how to properly use the pump. He shuts himself in the bathroom to use it, making a face at Derek when he suggests he could help.

“Thanks, but no,” Stiles says, shaking his head. “It’ll already feel weird without you standing there and staring at me. But thanks for the offer, boo.”

Derek is the one who gets up that night when Nathan starts crying. He goes up to the nursery and gather Nathan close to his chest, bouncing him a little as he walks to the kitchen. Heating up the bottle is a little tricky while holding on to his infant son, but he manages to do so without spilling anything or dropping Nathan.

He remembers to test the temperature of the milk on the back of his hand. When he finds it’s appropriately lukewarm he rearranges Nathan in his arms and traces the tip over Nathan’s lips. It doesn’t take long before he latches on, throat working as he swallows.

And Derek, well.

Derek kind of feels like he just got punched in the gut.

Because this is the first time he’s fed his son, held him in his arms while he ate, and it’s— It’s a little bit _terrifying_. Because here he is, this little tiny human he and Stiles are responsible for, who needs help to do _everything_ so he can grow up strong and healthy.

Derek’s breath hitches as he stares down at Nathan, feeling like he’s holding an entire universe in his arms.

And then the spell is broken when Nathan stops eating and  Derek holds him up against his chest and starts patting his back. Because right on the third tap, when Derek is still feeling overwhelmed and scared and like he’s the luckiest man in the world, Nathan _burps_ and _spits up_. All over Derek’s shirt.

That’s when Derek learns about one of the not-so-great parts of parenting.

Stiles laughs himself silly when Derek tells him about it in the morning, tears gathering in his eyes, entire body shaking with it.

“This is great,” Stiles says, grinning. “You should feed him always. I really liked getting some extra sleep.”

Derek mock glares, silently congratulating himself for succeeding in his mission to get Stiles to sleep a little more every night

Not that helps them much, since Nathan continues crying and waking them up every night.

“We’re never going to get anything done again, _ever_ ,” Stiles says one night, after they’ve managed to get Nathan to go back to sleep. “Not until he learns that we sleep when it’s dark.”

“He’ll get the hang of it,” Derek says through a yawn. “Hopefully.”

“At least I work from home. You’re going to be like a zombie when you start work again.”

Derek shakes his head, pulling the covers up and climbing into bed. “I’m giving myself a four-month paternity leave. I’m the boss. I’m allowed.”

“How sweet,” Stiles says, laying down and cuddling up to him. “Thank you, though.”

“It’s not a problem,” Derek tells him. “I want to be near you and our son. Even if it means waking up every three hours every night.”

“Yeah, that’s not nice,” Stiles mumbles, nuzzling Derek’s neck. “At least with you at home I might have some time for writing and editing.”

Derek blinks, a little more awake than he was a second ago. Stiles _rarely_ mentions anything about his work, and Derek never felt like it was okay for him to ask for information. He knows their situation is different now, but he still feels a bit hesitant to ask Stiles about it.

“I saw you writing,” Derek starts, pausing to see if Stiles has any reaction to it.

All Stiles does is slide his hand up and down Derek’s side and say, “Duh.”

Derek snorts, kicking Stiles under the covers. “I didn’t know if it was okay for me to bring it up. You never seem too excited to talk about it.”

“I wasn’t,” Stiles admits. “But let’s just say I’ve found something to inspire me. It’s been a lot easier to write this past couple of months. I’ve even got a story almost finished.”

“That’s good,” Derek says, fighting the urge to ask the million questions he has running through his head. “Now how about we go to sleep so we have more energy to do things tomorrow?”

“I wish it were sexy things,” Stiles mutters, and Derek doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s pouting. “But we’re still on a medical sex ban.”

“The tragedy,” Derek says dryly.

Stiles pokes him in the ribs. “It _is_. I miss your dick.”

“He misses you, too,” Derek teases.

“Ugh,” Stiles groans. “Life is _so hard_. And we can’t even do anything about it.”

“We can sleep,” Derek says. “Before Nathan wakes—”

A second later they can hear Nathan’s cries, and Derek presses his lips together not to laugh at the incredibly pissed off look Stiles gives him.

It’s a good thing he can find humor in this, because around the second week Derek doesn’t even know what’s real and what isn’t anymore, so it’s a good thing Lydia, Erica, and Boyd storm into his apartment and offer their help.

Lydia scoops Nathan from Stiles’s hands saying that he needs some ‘Auntie Lydia time’ and sends Stiles and Derek towards their bedroom to shower. For the first time since they started showering together, this time all they do is wash each other off quickly, tooo anxious about leaving Nate without either of them for too long.

When they emerge, smelling better than they have in _days_ and feeling a little more awake, Derek notices that Boyd is doing their dishes while Erica is in the laundry room sorting their clothes.

Figures she would be the only one brave enough to do so.

Things go a little bit easier the rest of the day—Derek taking over cleaning duties from Boyd while Stiles claims Nate back from Lydia to feed him.

Then, later that evening, Stiles and Derek curl together on the loveseat as they watch a delighted Erica feed Nate from a bottle while Boyd watches them with an intense look on his face.

Scott, Kira, Jackson and Isaac come by the next day, with Scott and Jackson on baby duty while Isaac and Kira go grocery shopping and stock their fridge.

By the fourth day of the packs helping, Derek and Stiles have managed to catch up on a bit of their sleep, and they don’t feel the desperation they used to whenever Nathan starts crying anymore.

Derek thanks them by inviting them over for dinner the night after Stiles’s dad is due to arrive, failing at making it not seem he’s using his pack and Stiles’s friends as a buffer between him and the Sheriff.

“Derek thinks dad is going to shoot him,” Stiles explains when his friends stare at them in confusion.

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek hisses, the tips of his years turning red.

“Dude, you don’t have to be scared,” Scott says, frowning at Derek. “Stiles’s dad is _the best_. And he’s totally chill about the werewolf thing.”

“He even helped us cover up a murder when the rogue Alpha situation happened,” Lydia says. “He’s great.”

And that? That doesn’t make Derek feel any better. _At all_.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this scared,” Stiles comments, shaking his head. “Not even when I _went into labor_ in the _doctor’s office_.”

“Shut up,” Derek grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

And Derek wants to be mad at the way Stiles keeps making fun of him for being afraid of the Sheriff, but he realizes he can’t when he sees Stiles smile.

Especially when Stiles coos at Nate, bending his head close so their noses are almost touching and saying, “Your Daddy thinks he’s a big bad growly wolf, but he’s actually a cutie. Don’t let his grumpy eyebrows full you, monkey. Daddy is all heart.”

* * *

Stiles almost bursts out laughing when his dad gets there, having to bite down on his bottom lip not to do it when he sees just how _awkward_ Derek is around him.

The best part is how Derek immediately stands up every time the Sheriff walks into the room. It doesn’t matter what Derek’s doing, he immediately springs to his feet any time Stiles’s dad is in his vicinity.

It’s weird seeing stoic, blank faced Derek so unsure of himself, calling his dad ‘sir’ and just all around looking like he doesn’t know what to do with himself in his own house.

It kind of reminds him of how Derek was with him when they first met, and Stiles can tell that his dad finds it just as amusing as Stiles did back then.

He can see his dad’s muffled laughs and hidden grins whenever Derek defers to him or offers to get him something or asks him his preference for dinner.

Speaking of which, thanks to Derek’s insane need to please his dad, Stiles’s mandated diet plan has been completely ignored in favor of the Sheriff’s favorite foods.

Everything however, is ignored anytime Nate is awake.

The Sheriff falls in love with baby Nathan as soon as he sets eyes on him. Not that Stiles thought he wouldn’t.

“He’s a handsome baby,” his dad says proudly, holding Nathan in his arms. “Almost as handsome as you were when you were a kid.”

“I think he’s the most beautiful baby ever,” Stiles says, tracing a finger over the bridge of Nathan’s nose. “He can’t not be when he’s half Derek’s. And Derek is ridiculously good looking.”

The Sheriff glances at Derek and narrows his eyes, considering. “I guess.”

Derek actuallyly preens at that, but what he says is, “I agree with Stiles, he is beautiful. But I think it’s because he looks more like Stiles than me.”

“Derek,” Stiles says, cheeks flushing slightly.

“You’ve got good taste, son,” the Sheriff says, and Stiles stops feelings embarrassed to feel happy about his dad liking Derek instead.

The two of them end up bonding over their pride over the newest addition to their family. Something that never fails to cause Stiles to burst out laughing.

Like right now, they’ve got Nathan laying on a blanket on the floor while Derek lays next to him and Stiles and his dad watch from the sofa.

Derek is helping the baby ‘exercise’—something he read about online—where all he does is place his thumbs against Nate’s palms until he grabs hold of them and then stretches Nate’s little arms up and down and side to side. He does the same thing with his feet, pushing Nate’s knees to his chest and then stretching them out straight again.

These little ‘stretches’ never fail to tire Nate out, and before long, Derek is sitting comfortably in _between_ Stiles and the Sheriff—something that wouldn’t have happened a couple days ago—feeding Nate from a bottle as Nathan watches his daddy.

“Do you think he knows who we are?” Stiles asks softly, running his fingers through Nathan’s hair before resting his palm against Derek’s hand where it’s under Nathan’s head.

They all watch as Nate follows the sound of Stiles’s voice and looks over in his direction, eyes crossing slightly as he does so.

Derek smiles. “I think so. I think he definitely knows who his Dad is. You gave _birth_ to him, after all.”

His dad rolls his eyes. “You two sound like every single set of new parents out there.” He looks thoughtful for a moment, and Stiles knows, without a doubt, that he’s thinking about Stiles’s mom. “You guys are going to do great.”

After that his dad and Derek get along just fine. He doesn’t even seem bothered whenever someone from Derek’s pack stops by without warning to visit them and cuddle Nathan.

Boyd and Erica are by far their most frequent visitors, coming over with something new for Nate nearly every time. Soon enough Stiles starts to protest, claiming that they _literally_ don’t have any room for new toys.

“Guess you’re just gonna have to make one of your own,” he says one day, eyes light and mischievous. “We can give you all our extra toys for your kid.”

Derek meets his eye and smiles slylyin Boyd’s direction. “Stiles is right, you guys really ought to get busy. Nate’s going to need other kids to play with soon enough.”  

Both Boyd and Erica brush off their comments, but Stiles _sees_ how they look at Nathan, and even Dawn when they’re all together.

It’s only a matter of time.

The Sheriff just about squeals from happiness when Lydia and Dawn come over for the first time—it’s the very first time he’s seeing Dawn. When that happens it’s like he’s in heaven. Stiles can practically see the joy radiating from his dad from having babies around.

“Grandpa looks good on you, dad,” Stiles says softly, watching as his dad holds Nathan in one arm and lets Dawn grab one of his fingers with her chubby hand.

Stiles swallows around the lump in his throat when his dad just looks at him and gives him a small smile.

“She’s _gorgeous_ , Lydia. Just like her mother,” the Sheriff says reverently as he turns back to Dawn, reaching out to hold Dawn after passing Nathan to Stiles.

Dawn seems to consider him silently before deciding he’s harmless enough. She relaxes against him almost immediately as the Sheriff brings one hand up to play with her perfect curls.

Scott and Kira show up a little later, and they all sit in the living room, catching the Sheriff up on their lives and jobs and pack matters.

They’re up late, and despite the lack of sleep, Stiles couldn’t care less. He’s here with his _pack_ and his dad is in New York and everyone is _getting along_ and it’s all perfect.

Stiles is pretty sure this is  the happiest he’s ever been, surrounded by his pack and his family and the man he loves and their son.

They all stick around for a late dinner of Chinese take out and curly fries—Derek had gone to two places to pick up food on Stiles’s request—and no one makes any moves to leave until Stiles feels himself falling asleep on his feet, leaning heavily against Derek’s chest.

He wishes them all goodnight and even stops by his dad’s room to tell him as well before stopping by the nursery and picking Nate up when he starts to fuss.

And that’s how Derek finds him a few minutes later, with their son pressed close to his chest, his lips at the crown of his head, singing softly as he tries to put him back to sleep. He smiles when Derek gets closer, leans into him when Derek wraps his arms around both of them, and says, “We did good, didn’t we?”

And Derek leans down and kisses the top of Nate’s head right before he places a kiss on Stiles’ cheek and whispers, “Yeah, we did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the epilogue will be posted on **Nov 21st, around 5pm EST!!!**


	19. Epilogue: We find our place on the path unwinding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s really nothing like coming home to Nathan and Stiles at the end of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT’S THE END *bursts out crying*
> 
> Chapter title from [Circle of Life (Lion King)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NaGLVS5b_ZY).
> 
> xoxo,  
> J & P

Derek should have known Lydia and Jackson would spare no expense to give Dawn the best birthday party ever. They’ve been doing it for the last three years, and now that she’s turning four it’s no different.

Everything is purple and green and, well, _cute_ , if Derek’s being honest. Dawn had asked for a fairy themed party after watching _Peter Pan_ and the various _Tinkerbell_ movies for the first time, and _of course_ Lydia and Jackson had agreed. So there are wands and little wings _everywhere_ , and all the little girls are wearing sparkly dresses and flower crowns and fairy wings.

And then there’s _Nathan_ , who is tearing through the place being a _menace_. Stiles would argue he’s just living up to his _Lost Boy_ costume, wreaking havoc as he goes. Derek, for his turn, thinks Nathan is behaving _just_ _like_ Stiles did when he was a kid. He’d know; the Sheriff told him _horror stories_ about little Stiles and all the trouble he had gotten into.

But goddamn, Derek loves his little terror. He’s loved every moment of these last three years. There’s really nothing like coming home to Nathan and Stiles at the end of the day. With Nathan screaming _Daddy_ just before throwing himself at him, fully expecting Derek to catch him, and wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck and hugging him, babbling about his day. And Stiles smiling softly at them both before coming closer, running a hand over Nathan’s hair and placing a sweet kiss to Derek’s lips.

It’s all he’s ever dreamed about, when he let himself hope for a future where he was happy.

But, watching Nathan run around, playing with Dawn and her friends, their laughter echoing loudly in the room, he can’t help but wish for a little bit more.

He and Stiles have been married for about six months now. They said their vows in a small ceremony with their friends and family as witnesses, with Nathan standing in between them waiting for the moment he’d have to hand them their rings. But they’ve been living together for a little under four years, so it’s totally natural that they should start thinking about—or working on—adding to their family.

Stiles _did_ say when he was pregnant last time that he wanted _multiple_ pairs of tiny feet running around their home, so Derek knows he wouldn’t be against having another child. They just have never discussed the possibility since, although Derek is starting to think it’s about time to make that a reality. Or at least seriously consider the idea of it.

“Someone looks like he’s in deep thought,” Erica drawls, standing next to Derek and knocking their shoulders together.

Derek shrugs, knowing better to say anything about what he’s thinking before he brings it up with Stiles.

“Is it hard?” Derek asks instead, watching the little girl with curly blond hair and dark skin jump and try to catch one of the little wings hanging from the ceiling.

“What?” Erica raises an eyebrow. “Having two of them?”

“Yeah,” Derek nods, eyes moving to Boyd holding his and Erica’s newborn son.

“Yup,” Erica nods. “Some days I think I’m going to breakdown, but Boyd’s always there. You guys, too. And Remy still can’t do much more than roll himself on his belly, so he’s not that big of a problem. But last week Selina decided it’d be fun to see if she could climb our bookshelf.”

Derek winces. Nathan’s done that, getting about half-way up one of the shelves before Derek saw him and grabbed him ‘round the middle, dragging him away. He still remembers the deeply offended look on Nathan’s face at not being able to see if he could get to the top, brows furrowed and nose wrinkled and lips forming a pout. He looked exactly like Stiles did whenever he found out Derek ate the last of his cereal. 

“It’s worth it, though,” Derek says, watching the kids play. 

“Absolutely,” Erica replies, smiling warmly. “Boyd and I even want another one. But only after Remy’s potty trained. We don’t want to have to change diapers for _two_ kids at the same time.” 

Derek snorts, shaking his head. “Good plan.” 

“One you’re planning on following?” Erica asks him, smirking when Derek presses his lips together and doesn’t say anything. “ _Please_. You’re doing that weird face you do when you’re having feelings but don’t really know how to deal with them. You had that same face on when we first started talking about you having a baby.” 

“Doesn’t mean I want another one,” Derek lies, shifting on his feet. 

Erica throws her head back and laughs, patting Derek’s cheek after she calms down. “Sure you don’t.” 

Derek grimaces. “I’m not talking about this. Not with you.” 

“You want to bring it up with Stiles first, that’s smart,” Erica says. “Not that I think he’ll say anything other than _hell yeah_.” 

“Not talking about it,” Derek repeats, but he can’t help the way his lips curl up. 

“Fine,” Erica huffs. “Be that way. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go stop my daughter from trying to eat Lydia’s fancy tablecloth.” 

Derek smiles as Erica crouches down and picks Selina up, tickling her sides and making her laugh. 

And he wants that. He wants another child that’s half of him and half of Stiles, a brother or sister for Nathan. He grew up in a big family, and he wants his kid to have that. 

Nathan has just started preschool—which was harder on Derek and Stiles than on Nathan, who was perfectly happy to have other kids to play with—, and Stiles’s latest book tour is over and he’s supposed to start writing another book soon, and Derek’s work has been steady as ever. 

Stiles wrote most of his first book—well, not first, but the one that got him back on the market again—while he was pregnant with Nathan. Which is something he can do again, if they decide on having another child. 

So it’s good timing. 

All Derek has to do is talk to Stiles about it.

And speaking of Stiles.

“Hi there, handsome. I bring sweets.”

Stiles comes up to him with a plate filled with mini light pink and purple chocolate cupcakes and kisses him on the cheek.

“That wasn’t sweet,” Derek teases.

Stiles rolls his eyes at him, leaning in to brush their lips together. “How’s that?”

“Better,” Derek allows, stealing another kiss.

Stiles tastes of frosting and coffee, lips sticky with it. He’s still the sweetest thing Derek’s ever tasted.

Stiles grins smugly, like he knows exactly what Derek’s thinking and puts the plate down to slide an arm around Derek’s waist.

“We’re going to have to go _all out_ for Nathan’s fourth birthday if _this_ is what we’re trying to top.” He murmurs then, voice slightly muffled due to the fact that he’s basically nuzzling Derek’s shoulder. “I don’t think a basic picnic in a park is gonna cut it.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it _had_ to be a picnic, Stiles. I just want to do something outside.” He’s noticed that Nathan _loves_ running around Central Park and he just thought it would be nice if his party was outdoors. “You can pick whatever elaborate theme you want to. I just think Nate would enjoy an outdoor party.”

Stiles immediately scrunches his forehead in response and Derek knows that he’s thinking of the different possibilities.

Derek remembers Nate’s third birthday far too well—his crazy kid had asked for a _Christmas_ theme for his September birthday. And Stiles, well, Stiles had gone _all out_. There were twinkly Christmas lights covering every inch of their apartment, bedrooms included, and somehow, Stiles had managed to find Christmas trees three months early and had decorated each one differently. They’d had a Star Wars themed tree (complete with the felt characters from Nate’s baby mobile), a Disney Jr. characters themed tree, and one that had only various wolf figurines on it.

Stiles had confused all of Nathan’s preschool friends’ parents with that one.

Derek doesn’t want to know what Nathan will come up with if they ask him again what he wants his birthday to be about.

Knowing his kid, it’ll definitely be one of a kind.

Stiles lets out a sudden, excited gasp, bringing Derek out of his thoughts immediately. “We haven’t had a _Star Wars_ themed party yet!” Stiles says, lighting up. “We could decorate part of the park to look like Dagobah Swamp. _And I could dress up like Luke Skywalker_.”

Derek snorts, “And who would I be? Yoda?”

Stiles, if possible, lights up even _more_ and nods emphatically. “Yes. Definitely. But we’re gonna make one crucial switch.”

Derek pinches his brow, one hundred percent sure he knows what’s coming next.

“I’m gonna be the one on _your_ back,” Stiles finishes gleefully, eyes practically manic in his excitement.

Derek just sighs. He probably shouldn’t have said anything.

“Everyone,” Lydia says loudly, clapping her hands together. “If you’ll join us near the table, please. It’s time to sing happy birthday.”

“And have cake!” Dawn yells, throwing her arms up.

All the other kids join in, screaming in excitement.

“Oh, thank god,” Scott groans, coming up to Stiles’s side.

“You hungry, buddy?” Stiles asks, pointing at the cupcake plate. “You can have one if you wanna.”

“Did you know that that’s a _Hazelnut Opera Cake_ from _Balthazar Bakery_?” Scott’s eyes glaze over a little as he speaks. Balthazar Bakery is a very expensive, supposedly _amazing_ bakery on the Upper West Side. Derek doesn’t really care for it, but Erica _swears_ by it.  “ _Balthazar Bakery,_ Stiles. I’ve been wanting to eat it since Jackson made me pick it up this afternoon.”

“Is that why he’s been glaring at you since you arrived?” Derek turns to him. “You didn’t try to grab a slice, did you?”

Scott blinks at him, the picture of innocence when he says, “No.”

“He also didn’t tell Jackson it was because he had a sudden craving for hazelnut opera cake,” Kira says, poking Scott in the ribs while she rubs her bump. “Did you, Scott?”

Derek scrubs his face with a hand, shaking his head at Scott. Kira is five months pregnant with their first child, and Scott’s been over the moon about it. So much so he sometimes acts like _he’s_ the one who’s pregnant.

“I’m sorry,” Scott says, shoulders slumping. “It just looks _so good_. I mean, look at it.”

“Lydia always knows how to do things with style,” Stiles says. “Even birthday cakes.”

Lydia gives them a _look_ then, like she’s not sure if she’s disapproving or pleased. “Stiles, just go get your family together so we can cut the cake.”

Stiles just rolls his eyes and waves her off, turning to Derek with a smile. “Come on, babycakes, go wrangle the munchkin so Dawnie can cut her cake.”

Derek rolls his eyes but does so, going over to where Nate is getting orange cheeto all over Lydia’s living room couch and lifting his kid up onto his shoulders. It’s the one surefire way to get Nate to go along wherever Stiles or Derek need him to go. He loves “bein’ as tall as Daddy.”

Nathan squeals and tangles his fingers in Derek’s hair as he’s carried over to the dining table.

Great. Derek’s hair will probably look like Tony the Tiger by the time the candles are blown out. But at least this way they won’t have to face the wrath of Lydia when she finds the crumbs all over her furniture.

Everyone else is already there by the time he and Nate arrive and Derek takes a look around at his new, extended pack family.

Lydia, Jackson and Dawn are front and center, looking like a family out of a high end magazine catalogue. Scott and Kira are off to the side, Scott behind Kira with his arms wrapped snugly around her barely-there baby bump. Erica is making her way over to Boyd and Remy slowly, Selina waddling cute and slow in front of her. Isaac and Allison are standing off to the side, talking quietly as they watch Jackson look more excited over cutting the cake than Dawn seems to be. Even Danny is there with his boyfriend Ethan. They’ve both been  permanent fixtures at Dawn’s special events since day one.

He takes his place by Stiles’s side, taking in Stiles's warm gaze as he watches all the little girls crowd around Dawn and the cake.

Maybe it won’t be all that difficult for Derek to tell Stiles what he wants.

“Can we start?” Dawn asks, looking up at Jackson and Lydia.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Jackson smiles, and then makes a big show of clapping his hands when he starts to sing, “Happy birthday to you!”

They all join in, Nathan letting go of Derek’s hair so he can clap too. Derek holds onto his bony knees to make sure he doesn’t fall, watching their pack with a light heart, lips curled up in a soft smile.

He laughs as Dawn goes cross-eyed when she blows out her candle, whistling when she looks up at them and puffs out her chest, looking extremely proud of herself.

“Can we eat now?” Dawn asks, practically vibrating in place.

“Cake!” Selina yells, making grabby hands at the table and trying to squirm out of Erica’s arms.

Dawn’s friends swarm Jackson and Lydia, all excited to finally be able to eat the huge cake they’ve been staring at all afternoon. Even Remy squeals and kicks out his legs, joining in on the fun.

“Who would have thought that our son would be the most well-behaved?” Stiles says, eyes going up to Nathan, who has his hands back on Derek’s hair and is waiting patiently to get his slice of cake.

“Grandpa says only good boys get cake,” Nathan tells him. “So I’m a good boy, and I get lots of cake!”

Derek gives Stiles a pointed look at that.

“His logic is sound,” Stiles says, pressing his lips together and trying not to laugh.

“Sure it is,” Derek sighs.

It takes about another five minutes until Lydia hands them a plate, smiling at Nathan when he says, “Thank you, Auntie Lydia,” as seriously as he can.

“You’re welcome, sweetie.”

“Uncle Jackson?”

“Yes, Nate?” Jackson asks, tickling his feet.

Nathan giggles, squirming away, and Derek glares at Jackson when he has to tighten his hold on Nathan not to let him tip over.

“Napkin, please,” Nathan says.

“Here you go.” Jackson hands him a _Tinkerbell_ napkin, making sure Nathan isn’t looking when he gives Stiles another five more. “Just in case,” Jackson says quietly, looking annoyed when Stiles punches him in the shoulder and thanks him.

“Daddy,” Nathan says, tugging on Derek’s hair.

“Yes?”

“Go sit now. I wanna eat.”

“Sure, buddy.”

They claim the loveseat, with Nathan sitting in between Stiles and Derek. They eat silently, with Stiles feeding Derek a bite of his cake for every three bites he takes. His slice is twice the size of Nathan’s, and Stiles just sits there grinning and shaking his head when Nathan finishes his own and asks his Dad for some more.

“But _Dad_ ,” Nathan whines, pouting sadly at his empty plate.

“I thought Nathan was the three year old in the family,” Derek teases, looking at Stiles. “You’re really not gonna share, Stiles?”

Stiles smiles his signature shit eating grin. “Can’t have him bouncing off Lydia’s pristine walls, now can I?” Stiles glances up at Derek’s—now probably messy—hair. “He’s caused enough damage already.”

Stiles may have a point there. He had seen Nate scarf down at least two mini cupcakes before they had gathered for cake. God knows how many he’d had when Derek wasn’t looking.

And Nate plus sugar? Not a good combination.

Although Derek had hopes he’d tire out from running around all afternoon with other kids, but as he glances over at Nate attempting to flip over the back of the sofa and escape them so he can go ask Uncle Scott for more cake, he figures it’s probably already too late.

There’s icing on the _back_ of Nate’s shirt, something Derek finds out when he curls his fingers around the fabric to pull his son back to safety.

How’d he even manage that?

* * *

Stiles is pretending to be asleep.

Mostly because it’s seven on a Sunday morning and he’s tired from all the excitement at Dawn’s birthday party, but also because he spent half the night plotting his next book in a fit of inspiration that left his office a mess and him sleep deprived.

He’s happy to be back home and writing writing though.

He and Derek have already gotten into a comfortable routine, with Derek dropping Nathan off at daycare when he goes to work in the morning, and Stiles picking him up a little after their afternoon naptime. That way, he and Nathan have time for a snack and some play time before Derek gets home.

Not that Derek spends that much time at work since Nate was born, instead only going in a few times a week to make sure his company is running okay. That means that when Stiles has to tour the country doing promotional work, Derek and Nathan are able to come along with him.

But still, when Stiles is at home their routine leaves him with his whole morning free to work on his next novel.

Not that that is something he needs to do, considering he still has a good chunk of time left before he needs to write anything new. And his last book—the one he wrote during his pregnancy and edited and published during Nathan’s first year—was a success, so he has a good feeling about his new project.

So he presses his face against his pillow and pretends not to notice when Nathan climbs on their bed, hiding his smile at the sound of little hands which probably mean he’s hitting Derek on the face until he wakes up.

“Daddy, wake _up_!” Stiles smiles and thinks about how he trained his kid _good_. He always wakes Derek up, never Stiles.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy, I’m hungry,” Nathan continues insistently, and Stiles finally hears Derek shift and groan.

“Shh, Nate, I’m awake.” Stiles hears a thump and figures that Derek lifted Nathan up onto the bed. “Don’t wanna wake your dad up, do we?”

Nathan giggles, softly and happily as he whispers, like he’s telling Derek a secret. “Nooooo, Dad’s grumpy in the mornings.”

Derek snorts and whispers right back, “And he’s Dopey the rest of the day.”

Stiles bites back a laugh at Nathan’s subsequent, confused, “What?”. They haven’t exactly shown him _Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs_ yet.

Derek thinks the scene in the woods is ‘too scary for a three year old’. And they already had Dawn refuse to watch the movie again until someone made the bad witch disappear. Jackson didn’t have fun trying to explain to her how _that_ was impossible.

Never mind that their son had seen all six _Star Wars_ movies before he could even talk in complete sentences. For a while Derek was convinced Nathan’s first word was going to be ‘force’.

It wasn’t.

Nate’s first word was ‘da’.

Something that then led Stiles and Derek to fight about who Nate meant to call, since Derek is _daddy_ and Stiles is _dad_.

They stopped arguing when Nathan’s second word turned out to be _Dawn_. Then they just laughed. And took pictures of Jackson’s chin trembling and eyes watering when he heard Nathan call out to Dawn for the first time.

It was better than Selina’s first word, which turned out to be _Scott._ Derek, as her godfather, was extremely annoyed at that. And Erica, enjoying that _a lot_ , just laughed at him.

It was no surprise to _anyone_ when, after Remy was born, Derek took him from Erica almost immediately, playing with him and murmuring nonsense in his ear. Stiles is willing to bet every penny he received from his last book that the majority of the ‘nonsense’ was actually Derek’s name. And he knows Derek still does that from time to time, whenever they babysit Selina and Remy so Erica and Boyd can have a date night, all in hopes for Remy’s first word to be his name.

Stiles is endlessly amused with the harmless competition between Derek and Scott. It’s natural with two Alpha werewolves that are around each other a lot, and it’s a good thing that their power plays usually involve angrily playing Trivial Pursuit or seeing who can do a handstand for longer.

More often than not, it’s a tie, both men going on for as long as they can until Kira or Stiles makes one of them stop. Usually Stiles just pokes Scott in the ribs and dashes away, cackling loudly when Scott giggles and loses his balance. When Kira is the one to stop them, she goes for Derek,playing dirty by giving Derek a Wet Willy.

It never fails to make Derek growl and chase Kira around the apartment in order to retaliate.

Stiles tunes back in to the conversation between Nate and Derek, listening as Nathan lists what he wants to eat for breakfast.

“‘Nd I wan’ bacon and pancakes with whip’ cream. And orange juice and coffee.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. His kid, ladies and gentlemen.

Derek laughs, the low growly thing he does when he’s happy. “You wanna drink coffee, little man?”

Nathan squeals out an indignant, “No, silly daddy!” Stiles can just picture his wrinkled nose and reproachful expression. “Coffee’s for _dad_ , so he will wake up happy.”

Derek laughs again, “Cuz right now he’s just Sleepy, isn’t he?”

Nathan blows out a breath, and Stiles doesn't need to be looking at him to know he’s annoyed.He’s probably picked up on the fact that Derek is teasing him a little. “Yes daddy, any im-buh-suhl could see that.”

Jesus, his kid has been spending too much time with Lydia.

He can hear Derek shudder next to him, and he wonders if Derek just bit back a laugh. “You need to spend less alone time with your Auntie Lydia, son. That’s not a very nice word.”

“Auntie Lydia says it,” Nathan tells him.

“Auntie Lydia is a grown up,” Derek says. “You’re a little kid. Some words are not meant for little kids.”

“Because it’s not nice?”

“Exactly. And in this house we only have space for nice words.”

“Sorry, daddy.”

“That’s alright.”

Stiles bites back a smile at Derek’s soft tone. He _knew_ Derek was going to be amazing dad when he was pregnant, and he loves how he’s proven right every single day. He loves watching his son and his husband together.

“Daddy,” Nathan whispers, and Stiles can feel the mattress bounce a little. Nathan must be jumping in place.

“Yes, buddy?”

“I have a nice word for you.”

“You do?” Derek asks, amused.

“Yup.”

“What is it?”

“I…,” Nathan trails off, and a second later he whispers loudly, “ _Love you_!”

Derek laughs, and then next thing Stiles hears is a loud smacking noise followed by a couple raspberries, Nathan squealing and laughing the entire time.

“I love you too, champ,” Derek says finally when they both manage to stop laughing. “But that was _three_ words.”

Nathan sighs, and it takes all of Stiles’s willpower to not turn around look at his adorable, ridiculous kid right now.

“I’m three!”

“And I guess that justifies _that_ , huh?” Stiles is willing to be that Derek’s doing his signature eyebrow raise right now.

“Just a what?” Nathan asks, before switching gears. “Daddy we gots ta get out of bed. It’s pancake time.”

“We should wake dad up for pancake time, shouldn’t we?”

“Pancake time is family time,” Nathan recites dutifully.

“That’s right,” Derek says, and Stiles knows that he’s smiling. “It’s family time with me and you and dad.”

“‘S the best time!” Nathan says excitedly.

“Oh, you think so?” Derek teases, making Nathan laugh.

And Stiles lets himself bask in the warmth of their voices, in having his two favorite people in bed with him, in having Derek talk to their son about family time, how great they both think it is, spending time together as a family, and what Nathan would think of having a little brother or—

Wait a minute.

* * *

Derek _still_ doesn’t know how to bring it up with Stiles the question of having more kids.

He knows Nate’s on board with it, considering the way his eyes widened comically and his mouth dropped open in a little ‘O’ of surprise when Derek mentioned it to him.

“So?” Derek asks again, when all Nathan does is gape at him. “What do you think? Want a little brother or sister?”

“Really?” Nathan breathes out, eyes shining.

Derek’s heart flips in his chest at the awed look on his son’s face, his lips forming a smile. “Really, buddy. Would you like that?”

Nathan nods so enthusiastically half of his hair ends up covering his face, making him go cross-eyed when he glares at it and tries to blow it out of his face. Derek chuckles, swiping his hair back and letting his hand come to rest on the back of Nate’s head.

“We need to talk to Dad first, though,” Derek tells him. “We’ll need his help.”

They’ll need more than that, but Derek doesn’t particularly want to explain to Nathan how babies are born. At least not until he asks, which will undoubtedly happen in a few years. Or as soon as  Stiles gets pregnant again.

“If Dad says okay?” Nathan asks him, tugging at Derek’s shirt. “Then I’ll get a brother like Remy?”

“Or a sister like Selina,” Derek says, nodding.

“ _Awesome_ ,” Nathan whispers, sounding so much like Stiles it made Derek’s heart hurt.

But Derek still doesn’t know how to bring it up.

So he spends the entire week trying to come up with ways to talk to Stiles about it, only to lose his nerve whenever the time comes.

He doesn’t know why he’s worrying so much about it. Maybe it’s because the last time they did this, it was a different situation. They were virtually strangers, and once the pregnancy was over Stiles was supposed to disappear from his life.

But now they’re together, and in love, have been for a long time. This is not about _Derek_ wanting a child, but about _them_ adding to their family. And even though Derek knows Stiles wants more kids, he doesn’t know if Stiles will agree that now is a good time.

So he goes to work and come homes everyday that week to have his stomach flip whenever Stiles welcomes him home with a smile and a kiss and Nathan barreling into his legs, grinning wide, making grabby hands so Derek will pick him up and telling him all about his day.

Nathan’s especially excited that day because he’s going on his _first ever_ full moon camping trip.

To be honest, Derek’s pretty damn excited about it as well. It’s the first time in four years that every single member of his and Scott’s pack (the Sheriff and Mrs. McCall included) is going to be together for the full moon. On top of that, they’ve rented three RVs for the fifteen of them and they’re driving up north to a stretch of land that belongs to an older alpha that was friends with his mom.  

He sets Nathan down gently, and crouches next to him as Nathan continues to bounce around in excitement. “You all packed, champ?”

Nathan nods emphatically, bright brown eyes—that are just like Stiles’s, he thinks smugly—shining in excitement. “Of _course,_ daddy. I pack’ my backpack with camp stuff and ev’rything.”

Stiles walks out of Nathan’s room then, eyes bright and fond. “He actually only packed several pairs of socks, but I fixed it.”

Nathan sighs like he’s terribly disappointed in his dad as he turns away from Derek and scrunches up his nose. “No cold toes, dad. I need toasty toes.”

“Toasty _warm_ toes,” Stiles corrects before shaking his head. “I swear to god if it wasn’t for those eyes, I’d think he wasn’t mine.”

“And his nose,” Derek adds, grinning smugly. “Not to mention the entirety of his personality.”

Stiles beams. “Oh yeah, that. That’s kinda true.” Stiles’s expression turns serious then, and he looks thoughtful. “Bet he ends up be a wolf like his daddy, though.”

Derek swallows, unwilling to admit just how much he hopes that’s true.

“Wolf!” Nathan yells, and instantly starts growling.

Or trying to. He can’t quite manage it yet.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, scooping Nathan up. “Come on, give me your best wolfy face.”

Nathan bares his teeth and makes hands like claws, bumping his nose with Stiles’s when Stiles just grins at him. “You too, dad!”

Stiles laughs but does as he’s told, then turning to Derek and saying, “And you, daddy. Don’t leave us hanging.”

Derek rolls his eyes but shifts, coming up to them so Nathan can touch his face. And no matter how many times Derek does this, Nate always looks awed by it. And The first thing he touches are Derek’s ears, tugging at them and giggling himself silly. _Every time_.

Derek playfully growls at him, eyes flashing red.

Nathan’s only answer is to lean in and press his cheek against Derek’s, rubbing his baby smooth skin against Derek’s sideburns.

Derek growls contentedly and wraps his arms around Nathan and Stiles—he never can resist it when his cub initiates scenting. It’s something he’s picked up from Derek, even though he doesn’t really know how much it means for wolves to do it.

It takes them for _ever_ to get Nathan to go down to bed that night. he’s _way_ to excited for ‘moon wolfy time’, babbling about all the things he’s going to do once they’re out in the woods. It’s like back when Nathan was a baby and was up all hours of the night, but with Nathan talking nonstop instead of all the crying.  

The next morning is a flurry of making sure they have everything they need—from clothes to sleeping bags to ridiculous amounts of food.

Even though there’s really no such thing too much food among two werewolf packs.

They’re out of the house before nine am, which Derek thinks is some sort of miracle, but when he looks over at his husband and son, and sees them positively _radiating_ excitement, he figures it’s not really that surprising.

They aren’t even the first ones there—which he should have guessed—but arrive to see Jackson setting up a barbecue and Lydia arranging lawn chairs in front of their RV, with Dawn pretending to help. Isaac and Scott are bringing the other two, so Stiles, Nathan and Derek really have nothing to do but explore.

Derek takes off immediately after a quick nod from Stiles. After so many years together, Stiles can read him like a book. He runs a quickfivemile radius loop around the campsite, satisfied when he realizes that they are truly isolated from any other human or werewolf activity. There are faint werewolf scents, of course, because it’s pack territory, but he feels confident that no one will interrupt them during their trip.

By the time he gets back to the camp, Isaac, Boyd, Erica and their little ones have arrived with another RV. Isaac and Boyd are collecting wood for a bonfire and Erica is keeping all the kids occupied with a game of _I Spy_ while Lydia and Stiles sort through all the food that’s been brought up. Derek brushes past Stiles with a quick kiss to the back of his neck before going to help Jackson at the grill.

Scott, Kira, the Sheriff, and Melissa show up a little past noon, Scott explaining that they picked up the parents on time, but Kira’s morning sickness slowed them down on the drive up.

Melissa takes over entertaining the kids while the Sheriff immediately throws Jackson and Derek off of grill duty.

“I’ve been grilling since before you two were born,” Stiles’s dad says when Jackson scowls at him. “I’ll be fine.”

They pass the time eating, talking, and making sure none of the kids end up running away and getting lost in the woods. Not that they wouldn’t find them, but still. No one wants to deal with the aftermath of _that_ trauma.

At the first glimpse of the moon, Derek catches Stiles’s eye, his own eyes flashing red, and grins wolfishly. Stiles rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning too, eyes bright with excitement.

Derek gets undressed and shifts quickly, falling onto all fours in his full alpha shift. He can’t help but preen as he watches Scott shift into his beta form, knowing out of the two of them he’s the only one able to turn into a full wolf.

“Show off,” Scott huffs, rolling his eyes at him.

Derek walks up to him and bumps his head against Scott’s side, but ducks away and growls when Scott tries to pet him.

“Fine, fine,” Scott says, raising his hands. “No petting.”

“Petting!” Nathan yells, running to Derek and throwing his arms around him.

Derek stands still while Nathan scratches his ears and under his chin and runs his hands through his fur, tongue darting out to give Nathan’s cheek a lick.

“Gross!” Nathan says, but doesn’t hesitate to place a kiss between Derek’s eyes.

Melissa comes up to him with Selina and Dawn, and Derek settles in for a few more minutes of petting. He can see Lydia and Stiles with their phones out, taking pictures, and he can hear Erica, Isaac, and Scott snickering.

Before long, Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and Jackson are in their beta forms too, running around while aggressively scenting their pack members, mates and kids.

Derek nudges Nathan and walks with him over to where Stiles is waiting, Nate’s fingers tangled in his fur, clutching just short of too tight.Stiles is smiling when they get close, soft and warm, and he doesn’t waste any time before getting his hands on Derek and petting him too.

“Have to say, I kind of like how I’m the only adult allowed to do this,” Stiles tells him, running his fingers through Derek’s fur.

Derek presses his nose against Stiles’s cheek, his own way of saying he likes it too.

“Cuddle, dad,” Nathan says, stretching his arms out to Stiles.

Stiles chuckles and scoops him up, and Derek doesn’t hesitate to press himself against them.

Derek scents them as much as he can, breathing in deep and filling his lungs with the scent of _family_. Of him, Stiles, and Nathan, _together_.

He stays there until he feels Nate start to doze, exhausted by the excitement and activity of the day and lets Stiles up so he can take him inside.

“Okay, Wolf-mann, I guess it’s time for us to part ways,” Stiles teases. “Happy hunting. Please don’t bring me back any dead animals.”

Derek snuffs, nudging Stiles’s stomach as he stands and goes to join the other wolves, all set to go run with his pack and Scott’s.

They get back to the camp hours later, exhausted but content and ready to start a puppy pile.

Stiles introduced Derek to the concept of puppy piles around the fourth full moon they spent together, the first with Scott’s pack coming along. Derek has to admit he likes it, having his pack close, all within touching distance.

Not that he’ll ever admit that to Stiles.

Derek sniffs his way over to the RV Stiles and Nate are in, all set to get in some quality cuddle time with his pack.

Traditionally, the post full moon puppy pile would include Derek’s _entire_ pack. But ever since he and Stiles got together nothing in his life has really been considered traditional.

So what he comes back to is Stiles and his son— _their_ son—curled together _adorably_ on the RV master bed. Derek wastes absolutely no time shifting back to human and joining them, curling under Nathan and linking his fingers with Stiles’s where they are resting over Nate’s side.

Nathan and Stiles _both_ immediately shuffle closer, comforted by _something_ —they’re not ‘wolves, so he isn’t sure if it’s scent—and he immediately relaxes, lulled into complacency by the scent of his mate and cub.

“D’rek?” Stiles mumbles, bleary eyed.

“Go back to sleep,” Derek tells him, squeezing Stiles’s fingers.

“Good run?” Stiles asks, ignoring him.

Derek doesn’t know why he’s surprised.

“Yeah,” Derek says quietly. “Scott tripped on a root when he was running and fell on his face. We had to wait until his nose healed so we could run again.”

“That’s my Scotty,” Stiles says, grinning sleepily.

“You can make fun of him tomorrow morning,” Derek says, leaning in so he can press a kiss to Stiles’s forehead. “Now sleep.”

Stiles does, but not before pecking Derek in the lips.

And he does make fun of Scott, first thing in the morning after they all wake up and get together for breakfast, both packs laughing while Scott’s mom shakes her head at him. Nathan and Dawn are the only ones that look concerned, coming up to Scott and making him kneel in front of him so they can check there’s no damage.

Nathan even goes as far as squeezing Scott’s cheeks between his hands and smacking a kiss on his nose, saying, “Now, now, that’s all better.”

It’s because of those moments—when the pack is together, when all Derek can do is look down at his kid and feel so incredibly lucky to have him, when he has his family around him—that he misses the little looks Stiles sends their way, the way his face softens and his lips tug up and he presses a hand to his flat stomach.

* * *

It’s been a couple days since their full moon camping trip and they’re back at home and getting ready for bed. Or more precisely, Stiles is watching _Derek_ get ready for bed.

Because if there’s something Derek _wasn’t_ able to do while they were out in the woods with both the Hale and McCall packs around was sleep like he always does. And by that Stiles means just in his Under Armour.

Stiles actually even gets a little lost watching his husband take off his clothes, licking his lips as Derek slips off his pants, ass looking _amazing_ under the tight fabric of his underwear. Somehow, Derek doesn’t even notice him looking—or if he does, he doesn’t say anything about it—just adjusts his glasses on his face and runs a hand through his hair as he picks his clothes off the floor and throws them in the hamper.

His husband is the _hottest_.

Really.

Stiles still gets a little out of breath whenever he watches Derek work out, or get ready for bed, or put on his suit and tie to go to work. He suspects he’ll always feel like this, even after they’ve been married for decades.

He can’t say he’s upset about it.

Not at all.

In fact, he’s _thrilled_. He can tell Derek’s going to age just fine. _Hella_ fine. He’s going to be the hottest Grandpa in NYC one day, and he’s _all Stiles’s_. No one else’s, no sir.

Stiles knows he has a glazed look on his face when Derek comes to bed, because he doesn’t realize Derek is by his side until he feels a hand slide up his thigh until it rests on his hip.

“What’s so good that’s got you zoning out on me?” Derek asks, smirking a little because Stiles _knows_ he knows the answer.

“Well, you see,” Stiles drawls, cupping Derek’s cheek. “I’m married to a very handsome, very _hot_ man.”

“Oh, I see,” Derek nods seriously.

“And sometimes I get a little lost in my head thinking about _all the stuff_ I wanna do to him,” Stiles continues, leaning closer. “Because there’s just _so much_ of it.”

“I’m sure he’d like it better if you stopped thinking and actually _did_ something about it,” Derek breathes out, bumping their noses together.

“Oh, he would,” Stiles says, thumb tracing Derek’s bottom lip. “He’s really smart that way.”

Derek’s hand goes from his hip to the small of his back, pulling him closer. “Then what are you waiting for?”

“Just that,” Stiles grins, and then closes the distance between them, slotting their lips together in a wet kiss.

Stiles pushes a little at him until Derek’s on his back and Stiles is on top of him, his forearms bracketing Derek’s head, their legs tangled together.

It feels _so good_ , being like this with Derek. They don’t have as much time for each other as they did when Stiles was expecting, so they make sure to make the best of it when the opportunity arises. They never know when Nate might burst into the room wanting to show them something.

Stiles kisses his husband for a bit, their mouths moving languidly and familiarly against each other’s. Derek’s legs are spread so Stiles is cradled between them, and he has his hands under his shirt, palms hot on Stiles’s skin. Hands that are sliding up and down his sides, thumbs rubbing against his abs and getting close to dangerous territory—Stiles’s nipples.

And as much as Stiles _loves_ where this is going, this is kind of _not_ what he had planned for tonight.

And by that, he means he planned to address the conversation he heard between Derek and Nathan a couple weeks earlier—the conversation about giving their son a little brother or sister.

He’s watched Derek _not_ bring up the subject these past couple weeks, and he’s tired of waiting. His heat is going to start soon, and they need to have a conversation about what they want to do before that happens.

Stiles went back to taking his suppressants after having Nathan, because neither he nor Derek wanted to have a kid too soon after the first one. They wanted to see how they dealt with being parents, wanted to enjoy their time with Nathan, get to know their son.

It’s been nothing short of amazing. Having a kid with Derek—it’s like nothing he could have _ever_ imagined.

It’s better.

And the idea that they could do it again?

That they could create another life like they created Nathan, that they could bring another perfect little human into the world, is overwhelming.

So, right now? He’s thinking that he should be getting off the suppressants. He just has to make sure that Derek’s on the same page.

Stiles stops kissing Derek, lifting up a little so he can straddle Derek’s hips instead of laying over him. He links their fingers together, bringing Derek’s hands up to his lips and kissing his knuckles.

“So, I hear you think we should have more kids,” Stiles says finally, unable to articulate anything more sophisticated.

Derek goes tense underneath him, eyes wide and face a little guilty, and Stiles swoops down to kiss the frown off Derek’s face.

“Stop looking so guilty, you goof. It’s not a bad thing,” Stiles says, bending down to kiss along Derek’s collarbone.

Derek relaxes a little bit at that, but still looks kind of thrown off by this whole thing and super hesitant about it.

Stiles can’t really blame him. This _is_ a big deal, and even though Stiles knows Derek’s been thinking about this, Stiles did kind of spring this on him without warning.

“How did you—?”

“I heard you and Nate talking about it,” Stiles says. “You’re not as sneaky as you think you are.”

Derek makes a face at him, looking a bit offended. “That’s—”

“Not what we’re going to talk about now,” Stiles says firmly. “So, kids?”

Derek looks up at him hesitantly. “Are you— You don’t— Is that something you’d—”

And Stiles can’t help but kiss him again because Derek’s being _hella cute_.

“Yes, you dork.” Stiles manages to get out in between kisses. “I definitely think we should have another kid. And then maybe another one after that.”

Stiles _feels_ Derek’s smile against his cheek. “You know your heat is in another week.”

Stiles snorts, “Why do you think I didn’t wait for you to talk to me about this? Because, knowing you, you’d only do it after heat week was over and done with.”

And Derek’s face breaks into the biggest and brightest smile possible as he rolls his eyes and flips them over, kissing Stiles until they’re both breathless.

“What?” Stiles laughs into Derek’s mouth, giddy with happiness. “Gonna start working on getting me pregnant?”

“I can try,” Derek whispers, eyes crinkled at the corners.

“You’re gonna have to try real hard then,” Stiles says, tilting his head back so Derek can mouth at his neck. “You know it’s hard getting pregnant when I’m not in heat.”

“Good thing your heat is next week,” Derek replies, sucking a mark into Stiles’s skin. “Doesn’t mean we can’t practice until then.”

“Works for me,” Stiles says, rocking his hips forward.

“I can tell,” Derek teases, undoubtedly feeling the hard line of Stiles’s cock against his stomach. “Want to put my mouth on you first, though.”

“No complaints from here.” Stiles gasps when Derek bites at his collarbone, his fingers finding their way to Derek’s hair. “You may proceed.”

Derek laughs against Stiles’s chest, breath ghosting over his skin. He nuzzles his way down Stiles’s body, pausing to kiss him and lick and bite every once in a while. Stiles presses up into Derek’s mouth, knowing he’ll have marks all over him later and _loving it_.

It’s a good thing they’re already both in their boxer briefs, because Stiles doesn’t think he’d be able to control himself enough to take his clothes off. He also doesn’t think _Derek_ would be patient enough to undress him, using his claws to tear into and rip the fabrics instead. And as hot as _that is_ , Stiles is not thrilled about having to buy new clothes every time they have sex.

As it is, Derek is less than gentle while pulling Stiles’s underwear down, past his thighs, and off, throwing them somewhere over his shoulder. He just stares for a second, eyes dark, and Stiles fights the urge to both squirm under Derek’s gaze and roll his eyes.

“C’mon,” Stiles says, making grabby hands at him. “You’ve seen the goods before. Now come down here and get to work.”

“So romantic,” Derek murmurs, shaking his head. But he does as he’s told after ridding himself of his boxers, settling in between Stiles’s spread legs. “Don’t get tired of looking at you, though. Never will.”

Stiles makes a little noise in the back of his throat and brushes their lips together, stomach flipping at Derek’s words. Derek kisses him back, open and wet, before moving down to what he was doing before. He continues to lick and nip and kiss Stiles everywhere, sucking a particularly dark mark into Stiles’s hipbone before moving lower to more interesting places.

And by that Stiles means the inside of his thighs, where Derek has a hell of a time rubbing his stubble over him, turning the soft skin there red. Stiles hisses when he does it, fingers catching in Derek’s hair and tugging. Not that he wants Derek to stop, really. He just wishes he’d move up a little.

“I’ll go bald if you keep doing that,” Derek mumbles against Stiles’s thigh, one hand curling around Stiles’s wrist.

“I’d stop doing it if you got your _mouth on my dick_ ,” Stiles says, tugging at Derek’s hair again just because. “And you’d still look sexy if you were bald. Maybe.”

Derek snorts, and Stiles doesn’t need to see him to know he’s rolling his eyes. “Thanks, dear.”

“No problem, boo,” Stiles teases, hand moving from Derek’s hair to pat his cheek. “Now suck my dick.”

“As you wish.”

And Derek doesn’t play around anymore, letting go of Stiles’s wrist so he can wrap a hand around the base of Stiles’s dick just before his mouth closes around the tip. Stiles’s back arches at the feel of Derek’s mouth of him, toes curling when Derek tongues at his slit.

He stays like that for a moment, remaining light and teasing until Stiles moans and holds on to Derek’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

Stiles keens as Derek complies, sinking down on his dick and taking as much of it in his mouth as he can. Derek bobs his head up and down, working on Stiles’s cock until it’s wet and _messy_ , swallowing the length of it until Derek’s nosing at the base.

Stiles is _so_ on board with this, just as he always is when Derek’s deep throating him, and figures he needs to do something and _quick_ before this all ends far too soon.

He taps Derek twice on the shoulder, their signal for Derek to stop, and has to bite down on his bottom lip not to laugh at the unhappy look Derek gives him when Stiles’s dick slips out of his mouth.

“Come up here for a sec,” Stiles says, not waiting for an answer before he’s grabbing Derek by the arms and pulling him up.

“Is everything okay?” Derek asks, brows furrowed.

“Yup,” Stiles nods. “And it’s gonna be even better in a minute.”

Stiles angles up on his heels, moving so he has leverage to flip them over, doing so until Derek is on his back and Stiles is on top. Derek stares at him, wide-eyed in surprise, and Stiles kisses him once on the lips before going ahead and flipping _himself_ so his face is at Derek’s dick and Derek’s face is at _his_ dick.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hears Derek curse, and smiles smugly to himself.

Stiles has _the best_ of ideas when it comes to sex, okay? No one can deny it.

Especially not Derek.

Derek, who wastes no time sucking him down once again, getting even more enthusiastic when Stiles starts to mouth the base of his dick—after a quick nip at Derek’s abs, of course.

Derek lets go of his cock and licks lower, sucking at Stiles’s balls and tonguing briefly at his hole before taking Stiles back into his mouth.

And _fuck yeah._

Derek moves then, fully sucking down on Stiles’s cock as he brings a finger to rub against Stiles’s hole, his touch teasing and so _not enough_.

Stiles moans around Derek’s dick and tries to push his ass back into Derek’s finger, but Derek holds him in place with a hand on his hips. And that’s not very nice of Derek, teasing him like that.

So Stiles makes sure to suck him harder, making him wetter, moaning around Derek’s cock as he bobs his head up and down. He’s rewarded by a hitch in Derek’s breath, the muscles on his thighs tensing, Derek’s grip tightening on his hip.

And Stiles would smirk, if his mouth wasn’t full.

Derek takes his mouth off Stiles’s dick with a slick popping noise, one that never fails to make Stiles feel like he’s about to come in his pants. He goes ahead and ignores Stiles’s slight groan in response, and Stiles can hear him moving. Hopefully in order to reach towards the bedside table where the lube is.

He comes back quickly, teasing Stiles with a now lube-slick finger as he mouths at the base of Stiles’s dick before swallowing him down once more.

And yeah.

 _That’s_ the good stuff.

Stiles lets Derek’s dick slip out of his mouth and grins against Derek’s thigh, sucking a short-lasting mark against the inside of it before laving kisses up towards Derek’s shaft. The kisses turn sloppy and wet, and Stiles can’t help the thrill of arousal that runs through him when Derek growls in response.

A growl he can feel _all over_ and that makes his eyes roll to the back of his head, seeing as Derek’s still sucking him off.

He stays like that for a moment, kissing messily at Derek’s dick, sucking lightly everytime he gets near the head. He knows he’s not going to last much longer, not with Derek’s finger and Derek’s mouth on him, but he wants Derek to come before him. Mostly because he doubts he’ll be able to get Derek off after he comes his brains out, and Derek deserves all the orgasms Stiles can give him.

So Stiles does the one thing that’s _sure_ to make Derek tip over the edge.

“C’mon, baby,” Stiles murmurs, lips brushing Derek’s shaft as he jerks Derek off with one hand. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

Derek moans around Stiles’s dick, hips pushing into Stiles’s hand, but he doesn’t stop what he’s doing to give Stiles an answer. Which could either mean he _is_ close, or that he’s not going to let himself come before _Stiles_ does.

And that’s a competition Stiles very much wants to win.

“Yes, you are,” Stiles breathes out, licking Derek’s cock from base to head. “You’re close. Ready to come for me, huh? To come all over me? Ready to leave your scent all over the marks you’ve made tonight?”

And it’s a good thing Stiles knows Derek. A good thing he was expecting it before, well, it _comes_. Because that means he already has his eyes closed and mouth opened when Derek’s entire body goes tense and he comes, messy and hot, all over Stiles.

Derek goes boneless under him, and Stiles doesn’t stop himself from rubbing his face against Derek’s thigh. He’s not the only one who’s gonna be sticky with come, no sir.

Nevermind that this also means he’s spreading Derek’s scent on him.

And doesn’t _that_ make him hot, make his dick twitch, make him wish Derek had his mouth back on him and his finger moving inside.

And he must make a disappointed little noise at that, must shift in place on top of Derek, must drag his dick over Derek’s neck looking for friction, must do _something_ , because about twenty seconds later Derek’s hand is clutching his hip again, keeping him in place.

“Are you going to be good?” Derek asks him, breath ghosting over Stiles’s cock.

“I’m always good,” Stiles groans, trying to move. Derek hums, finger finding Stiles’s hole again and pressing slowly inside. “C’mon, Der.”

“Come on what?”

“Make me come,” Stiles pleads, pushing back against Derek’s finger. “Or I’ll tickle you under the knees, make you let go of me, and go take care of business by _myself_.”

“You won’t,” Derek says, chuckling. “You love my hands on you.”

“Only when you’re doing something with them,” Stiles tells him. “I like your mouth on me better, though. And I like you inside me even more than that.”

“Stiles,” Derek breathes out, and Stiles must have said something right because a second later Derek’s mouth is back on his dick, sucking him.

And Stiles gets a little lost in sensation after that, with Derek’s mouth and tongue on him and Derek pushing another finger inside, fingering him in time with the motions of his head.

And then Derek’s fingers go deeper, finding what they’re looking for, brushing his prostate firmly yet teasingly while Derek keeps blowing him. And all Stiles can do is gasp Derek’s name and dig his nails into Derek’s thigh before he’s coming, spilling down Derek’s throat.

He thinks he loses a little bit of time after that, because when he comes back to himself he’s lying on his back on the bed and not with his face smashed against Derek’s crotch. Derek’s beside him, looking stated and smug and happy, a drop of come clinging to the corner of his mouth.

Stiles groans and closes the distance between them, tongue catching at Derek’s lip and tasting himself when they kiss. They do that for a little while, taste themselves in each other’s mouth, kissing lazily and comfortably until Stiles’s realizes something.

“That’s not really how you make babies,” Stiles says, still a little breathless, still with come drying on his cheek.

He knows he can always count on Derek to blow his fucking mind, and this time it was no different.

“We can try that later,” Derek tells him, placing soft kisses against Stiles’s shoulder and bringing their sheet up to clean up Stiles’s face. “Again and again and again and _again_.”

“Promise?”

“Yes,” Derek says, his hands sliding down so it’s resting on Stiles’s stomach. “I love you.”

Stiles turns his head so he can get to Derek’s lips, kissing him deep and sweet. “Love you, too.”

“That’s good,” Derek mumbles, rubbing their noses together.

Derek’s hand is still on his stomach, and he looks so fucking _happy_ Stiles is having a hard time not wanting to jump him.

He obviously doesn’t succeed, his eyes turning liquid and his heart tugging in his chest when he says, “So it’s time for round two, huh?”

“Yes,” Derek says, pressing his hardening dick against Stiles. He leans down and kisses Stiles softly before saying, their lips brushing lightly, “I’m hoping for a little girl this time.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends like it began. With the possibility of a new life :’).
> 
> In other news, **we are considering some follow ups to this fic**. We have some ideas, but we don’t know if you guys would be interested in seeing more of Derek, Stiles, and their family. Feel free to comment/ask us what you wanna see—no promises though. 
> 
> And we didn’t have the time to answer all of your comments while we were writing, but now that the story is over we’d like to say something to everyone who left comments, kudos, bookmarked, and recced our fic.
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH OH MY GOD :’DDD
> 
> We would _not_ have been able to write this without your support and love and influx of comments/kudos/subscriptions. We love each and every single one of you.  <3
> 
> Also shout out to our beta [laynacakes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/laynacakes/pseuds/laynacakes)! You are lovely and amazing and we are so thankful for all your input <3.

**Author's Note:**

> You guys can find us on tumblr: [J](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com) & [P](http://hoechlinseverything.tumblr.com). 
> 
> J posts fic things under ['ficcing rants'](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/tagged/ficcing-rants) and P does under ['fic things'](http://hoechlinseverything.tumblr.com/tagged/fic-things) but you can probably find stuff about THIS story under the tag ‘fic: settle down’ on both Tumblrs. 
> 
> Hugs&kisses♡♡♡


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